Stalwart Wings
by impoeia
Summary: "My turn shall also come: I sense the spreading of a wing." - Osip Mandelstam. The time has come for Clone Commander Gaff and his men to take their place in the churning cauldron of the Clone Wars. These are the strides they make; their pains and joys as they spread their wings and learn to fly. Part of my Mockingbird series. Features OCs.
1. Chapter 1: Disconcerted

**Standard Disclaimer: **Star Wars is the uncontested property of George Lucas. I lay no claim to the galaxy far, far away. I am merely a single traveler, who was unfortunate enough to have several plot bunnies lodge in that cobwebbed thing I call a brain.

The original idea for this vignette collection came to me after reading **Eregnar's **drabble series,** The Heart of Man**_. _I don't pretend to keep to a word limit, but every chapter will be dedicated to a specific emotion as well.

**Author's Note: **The first two chapters of this series are "missing scenes" from my story **Call of the Mockingbird**. The rest of the collection will be made up of 'snapshots', focusing on Gaff and the 49th Blazer Corps. These vignettes follow a _very _loose order. Updates should occur every Monday, unless Darth Real Life gets his bony fingers on me again.

Cheers! impoeia.

* * *

**Disconcerted**

_Eyat Command Base, Gaftikar, Outer Rim, 21 BBY_

For once, it was Gaff who stood at attention in front of a desk, waiting for his superior to proclaim a judgement that might make or break him.

The fact that Clone Marshal Commander O'sic was sitting in what Gaff had come to think of as _his _office, behind _his _desk, just added a touch of surrealism to the experience. Gaff had been the highest-ranking military officer in the unit ever since leaving Kamino and taking over planetary security on Gaftikar. Aside from his reports to GAR HQ - and his single realtime comm transmission with High General Yoda and Windu - Gaff hadn't been in the position of subordinate since his short debrief with Commander Levet at the beginning of this assignment.

Perhaps that was why he was now fighting down the urge to fidget like a cadet. Lack of experience.

"This seems to have been a more exciting post than GAR HQ promised you, Commander," O'sic finally said, never raising his eyes from the datapad.

Gaff replied with great care, thinking over his words carefully before speaking them aloud. He did not, after all, want to appear conceited with success, nor reveal the initial misgivings he and his company had felt with their first assignment. Neither would be appropriate for a man of his rank.

"We were a rookie company, sir, and this posting has taught us much." Which was, he had to admit, nothing but the truth.

Commander O'sic gave him a searching look, as if evaluating him for some hidden motive or meaning.

"And at a price," he added, a tick starting up in his scarred cheek.

Gaff kept the wince at this casual mention of his losses on the inside. "Yes, sir. A steep one." _Seventeen dead_. It was the first time Gaff had lost men under his command and though he intellectually knew that he could lose more, if not all of them, in a battle-scenario like Teth or Jabiim, that number still kept him awake at night and he still found himself looking for those missing faces in the mess or the barracks.

The tick in Commander O'sic's cheek increased, then ceased.

"Losing men never gets any easier, Commander, but you'd best get used to it. Blazer Corps is heading into the Outer Rim Sieges and according to the latest reports from the 501st, Grievous is on a rampage. He doesn't like losing and General Skywalker made a fool out of him at Bothawui. Now he's taking it out on the Saleucami and Arda system."

Gaff drew in a sharp breath, feeling a heady rush to his head. He almost missed the rest of Commander O'sic's speech, as he grasped at the implication of the other man's words.

"Sir," he could hardly force the words out. "Does this mean…"

O'sic waved a hand, as if forcefully dispersing Gaff's excitement. "Blazer Corps is still more than two-hundred men shy of a full battle group. General Arhen believes that you and your men would make a good addition to the 49th and I happen to agree. Besides, incorporating your company saves us another trip to Coruscant. We can pick up the rest of the men we need at the reppel deppel on Ord Cestus."

Gaff swallowed at the mention of the reppel deppel - the Replacement Depot. He'd overheard stories as a cadet about the depot from the experienced troopers, who'd returned to Kamino to pass down their knowledge to the cadets.

None of the stories had been good or flattering.

O'sic's keen eyes had not missed Gaff's reaction, small as it had been, and the tick in his cheek started up again.

"The request for your company's transfer has already been sent to GAR HQ, pending approval. Make sure you and your men are ready to leave. General Arhen does not intend to remain past the arrival of the Nabooian envoy and his group and you will find that I have a preference for giving little notice." He raised a pointed eyebrow and Gaff thought he saw a flicker of amusement in the commander's eyes. "I expect my men to be ready for anything, at all times."

Gaff gave a sharp nod and stood a little straighter. "Yes, sir. I understand."

O'sic gave another wave of his hand, this one a clear dismissal. "Dismissed, Commander. See to your affairs."

Gaff saluted, then turned sharply on his heel, elated, determined and just a little insulted all at once. F Company was finally taking its place in the war and yes, his men _would _be ready to leave whenever Commander O'sic gave the order to move out. He's see to it personally. Or better yet, he'd sic Kase on the men. That should ensure every trooper of F Company was eager _and_ prepped to leave at the drop of a bucket.

The door _swished _open and Gaff almost ran into the person on the other side.

For a moment, all he saw was pale blond hair and bright, teal eyes.

_Ro. _

But in almost the same breath, he realized that the person he'd almost bumped into couldn't be Ro. For one, this person was far taller than the diminutive Jedi; as tall as a clone. For another, he was male.

"General Arhen." Gaff quickly backpedaled, trying to put as much distance between himself and the Jedi as possible, without losing his balance.

With a move as graceful as a wind brushing the top of a wave, General Arhen slid away and to the side, neatly avoiding any possibility of a collision, while at the same time reaching out a steadying hand towards Gaff.

"Careful, Commander." The grip on his bicep was strong, sure and Gaff looked into those teal eyes again in startlement.

It was disconcerting, seeing Ro's eyes in a male face. This was the first time in the four days since the general's arrival that Gaff had been so close to the man and now that he was, he could see that it was not just eye and hair color that the Jedi shared with his sister.

General Arhen had a strong, determined face, but the outlines of his cheekbones and chin showed evidence of the same delicate bone structure as his sister. His eyes were also just as large and clear and the mouth as generous and gracefully curved as hers.

The experience of seeing Ro's features reflected in a man's face - that of her brother and a Jedi general to boot - was entirely disconcerting. Even more so was the realization that heat was warming his cheeks.

Mortified, Gaff quickly broke eye contact with the Jedi. It was not courteous behaviour on his part, but Gaff figured that _blushing _because the general - who would soon be his commanding officer - reminded him of his beautiful sister, was even less appropriate.

He glanced to his right and realized to his growing dismay that Commander O'sic's eyes were on him as well. O'sic had a keen gaze that reminded Gaff of Wren, except that the commander displayed little of the cutting sardonic edge Wren was infamous for.

But O'sic missed little.

The barest tightening around the eyes let Gaff know that O'sic had noted the young commander's reaction to the general. But what O'sic might make of Gaff's confused response, Gaff couldn't tell; Commander O'sic had donned a mask of polite attention that was utterly inscrutable, even to a fellow clone.

"Everything alright, General?" The commander asked pleasantly, half-rising from the chair.

"No harm done, O'sic. Commander?" This was directed at Gaff and the young commander's attention snapped back to the Jedi with the force of a whipcord.

"Fine, sir," he hastened to assure. "My apologies for almost running you over, sir." _What a fantastic way to start working together with the man, _Gaff thought in dismay.

General Arhen's lips curved into a gracious smile and his eyes danced with inner amusement. "No need to apologize, Commander. You have my word that I shall abstain from court-martialing you until you do something truly egregious, such as spilling my morning caf."

There was a dry chuckle from Commander O'sic, but Gaff found he could not tear his eyes away from that smile. It was Ro's smile; though far more contained, it was just as sincere and touched by a sense of wicked humor.

And this time, there was no denying the heat suffusing his face.

Gaff did not give in to the urge to duck his head and run like an unseasoned shiny. He gave the general the salute he was due and left the office. Though admittedly, his retreat was a tad more hasty than was proper.

And there was no fighting the relieved sigh when he heard the office door sliding shut behind him, cutting off Commander O'sic's and General Arhen's voices.

Gaff ran a hand through his hair that was slightly shaky. Disconcerting; that was the only way to describe it. Gaff was used to seeing the same face over and over again, but that ghostly reflection of Ro on her brother's face was just..._utterly __disconcerting. _

His comlink beeped and Gaff, made aware that he was standing about like a dolt in the middle of a busy corridor, quickly pulled his bucket over his head.

"Yes?"

"Sir," Wess' voice over the comm sounded tired. "Sergeant Wren has been released from medbay. You said you wanted to be informed?"

"I did." And before he could think, he said, "Have the sergeant come to my office."

Wess acknowledge and it wasn't until Gaff heard the _click _of the closed channel that he remembered _his _office was occupied.

_Damn. _

It wasn't often that Gaff cursed, even in his own mind, but this was certainly the perfect opportunity for it. Helplessly, he turned about, facing down the door to his office - which, at the moment, wasn't his office at all.

There was only one other office in the small base and that belonged to Captain Kase. And _that _office was currently being used as temporary sleeping quarters for himself and Kase, as General Arhen and Commander O'sic had been assigned those quarters upon their arrival - as befitted their station.

The only reason he did not bang his head against the door was because it would not do for the men's morale to see their commanding officer indulge in such unbecoming behavior.

No more than five minutes had passed since Commander O'sic had informed Gaff that he and F Company would become part of the 49th Blazer Corps. The assignment wasn't even official yet and already, Gaff had to think of a diplomatic way to kick his two immediate superiors out of what was - technically - _his _office, so that he could go about his own duties and have a private debrief with a man who wasn't even - again, _technically_ - a part of his company.

In the privacy of his helmet, Gaff groaned, before raising his hand to knock on his office door.

_What a way to start. _


	2. Chapter 2: Stolid

**Author's Note: **This chapter is another "missing scene" of my story **Call of the Mockingbird**. You know, I was so proud of myself when I finished that story. It wasn't until _after _I had posted the very last chapter, that I realized I had actually _forgotten _to finish one of my plot threads. (Facepalm) Let this be a lesson to every writer trying out a long story for the first time: Make notes! Lots of them! And for the Force's sweet sake, organize them!

Anyway, I decided not to go back and change the final chapter of **Call**, because I actually liked how it turned out. So I'm tying up that particular loose end here, where I can give it all the attention and space it deserves, plus have a little fun on the side. **Laloga**, if you're reading this, thanks for listening to all of my little freak outs. As a reward, here's your own piece of Kase. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Stolid**

Companion piece to Disconcerted.

* * *

_Eyat Command Base, Gaftikar, Outer Rim, 21 BBY_

In the organized chaos of departure, Kase was an island of calm.

"Trooper, those boxes are stenciled 'fragile' for a reason. You are to handle each box according to its label. Carry; you are to refrain from juggling ammo clips unless specifically ordered to do so by your superior."

He never had to raise his voice to be heard above the din; his orders carried well and clear over the landing pad, where troopers were busy loading the waiting LAATs.

Without taking his eyes from the bustling lines of troopers, Kase addressed the man standing behind and slightly to the right of him.

"Lieutenant, contact Gos and Radar and remind them that they are to lift off as per the schedule given to them at the beginning of their shift. I will permit no excuse for tardiness."

"Yes, sir," Sighter said and hastily tapped out the relevant orders on his datapad.

Kase closely followed the progress of a squad of troopers hauling medical equipment. Though the _Stalwart _had several fully functioning medbays, the equipment was too precious to leave behind.

GAR SOP for breaking down a base was to remove any and all resources and tools, whether it was functional or not, so as not to have it fall into enemy hands. The Gaftikari were not enemies of the Republic, per say, but neither did Kase categorize them as trusted allies. After all, if the locals were completely trustworthy, then the GAR would have ordered F Company to relegate some of their more outmoded tech to the ruling government. That too, was standard operating procedure, as detailed in the manual for proper relations towards the local civilian population.

But GAR HQ had ordered a total breakdown of the base upon F Company's departure with General Arhen's Blazer Corps and Kase understood this as tacit approval to harbor a healthy dose of mistrust towards the Gaftikari.

The medical equipment came with them, along with every last piece of cutlery and flimsi.

Kase was about to open his mouth and reprimand a trooper - this one decked out in Blazer Corps' maroon piping and flaming star insignia - for not properly closing the lid on a crate marked 'Hypos', when Saw usurped his prerogative.

"You there!" Saw called out, pointing a finger at the offending trooper and hurrying to catch up with him. "Close the lid on that crate. We don't need it falling over during transit and spilling hypos everywhere."

The Blazer Corps trooper had stopped at Saw's first exclamation and was turning around ponderously under the weight of his burden.

Kase noted with approval the man's attempt to come to attention at being confronted by a higher-ranked soldier after identifying the medic's and sergeant's insignia on Saw's otherwise unmarked armor, despite the heavy crate in his arms.

"Sir."

Kase's approval vanished as the trooper - a private - then proceeded to simply drop the crate to the ground at Saw's approach.

Even from several meters away, Kase heard the clink of hypos and recognized the stiff lines of Saw's shoulders. The medic was no more appreciative of the private's rough handling of medical equipment than the captain was.

"A bit more care, Trooper," Saw said and pointedly knelt down by the crate to close the lid properly, double-checking - as per regulation - to make sure the catches had properly closed.

"Would you like to inspect the contents as well, sir?" the private asked solicitously. "To make sure all the hypos are still there?"

"That won't be necessary, Private," Saw said as he rose, dusting his hands off. "Lieutenant Wess oversaw the inventory himself and he is a meticulous man."

Yes, Wess was meticulous and Saw was just a bit too literal at times.

Kase saw the private's head dip in what could have been either amusement at the medic or repentance for his misbehaviour. Kase knew himself to be lacking in certain aspects of interpersonal relationships, but he excelled at logic and given the trooper's disregard for GAR equipment, logical reasoning indicated that the man would also lack in proper respect for rank.

True, Saw was only a sergeant and a sergeant of the newest company in Blazer Corps' overall structure, but complex inter-company alliances aside, the fact remained that Saw outranked the man and had reprimanded the trooper on a legitimate failing.

"Private." Kase pitched his voice in the direction of Saw and the Blazer Corps private. Both troopers turned towards him and Kase jerked his head for the private to approach.

The man did so, trotting until he stood in front of Kase. The private saluted. "Sir."

"Your serial number, Private?"

"CT-87-5656, sir."

"Very good, Private. Carry on."

The private hesitated a moment, clearly confused at the short summons, before returning to his assignment of carrying boxes and crates.

"Lieutenant Sighter, compose a message for Commander O'sic and inform him that trooper CT-87-5656 is to be put on report under GAR regulation, Article 134, Clause 1: offenses involving disorders and neglects to the prejudice of good order and discipline in the Grand Army of the Republic."

Sighter jerked a little in surprise, his eyes flickering from Kase to the retreating form of the private.

"Sir." Sighter fidgeted with the brim of his uniform's cap. "The private is not a member of F Company."

"He is, however, a member of the 49th Blazer Corps, of which F Company is also a part of and I, as a captain in the above mentioned corps, have noted his misbehavior and am recommending disciplinary actions to the battle group commander, as is my right and duty." Kase raised an eyebrow at Sighter. "Any more questions, Lieutenant?" There was not even the slightest trace of sarcasm in the question. Kase sincerely wanted to know, so that he could put the lieutenant to rights immediately.

Sighter swallowed. "No, sir."

Kase returned his attention to directing the trooper traffic on the landing pad, reminding himself that Sighter was new to his rank and Commander Gaff believed in giving newly-promoted troopers an adjustment period of three days.

The Kaminoans had had no such rules concerning promotions, but Gaff was Kase's direct superior and he would follow orders. Sighter had not received news of his promotion to lieutenant until yesterday evening, which meant the man still had a day and a half left to get used to his new responsibilities.

At the back of his mind, Kase wished for Zapps.

His former second had been bred and trained for his duties back on Kamino and had understood his captain's requirements.

But Zapps was dead, a victim of a civilian sniper and Sighter was his replacement. Circumstances required of Kase that he adjust accordingly and teach Sighter what was expected of him and he would. That was his duty.

Not an hour later, a new commotion drew Kase's attention.

Most of the smaller material had been lifted to the orbiting _Stalwart_ and troopers assigned to the clean-up had switched from carrying crates to pushing repulsor trolleys, loaded down with the heavier and in part, more sensitive items of the base.

For the purpose of efficiency, the troopers had formed several lines and were bringing in loads and walking off again with empty trolleys in an orderly fashion that Kase could find no fault with.

At the edge of the landing pad, however, several troopers were detouring out of their lines, pushing their trolleys to the side and back, forming a bubble around some kind of obstacle. Kase felt himself frown.

"Lieutenant, remain here and oversee procedures for the foreseeable future. I will be back as soon as permissible."

Sighter looked startled to be placed in charge, but nodded. "Yes, sir."

Kase walked towards the disturbance, noting with growing discontent that whatever was disrupting his departing procedures, was moving steadily up the lines and towards the waiting larties.

Men stepped aside as the captain made his way through the throngs and then, suddenly, Kase was in a pocket of space, shared with him by Hatch and Knock, who were holding a bound Kezner between them.

Commander Gaff, who'd been leading the small procession, halted at his captain's appearance.

"Commander." Kase looked at Kezner's scowling face in open surprise. "I was led to believe that the prisoner was not to be transported until the following day, 0800."

"There has been a change in plans, Captain." Commander Gaff explained smoothly and motioned for Kase to fall into step next to him. "General Arhen has requested that Mr. Kezner be transported to the _Stalwart _immediately. Apparently, the Nabooian envoy feels that his presence will be a disruptive influence during the rest of the peace talks."

"I understand, Commander." It did make sense to Kase's reasonable nature. Kezner had been the one to rouse a good number of the locals into rebellion in the first place and he was the reason behind the GFH's failed attempt at taking the base. Removing him from the planet would remove a source of discontent. "However," Kase went on smoothly, "I would have appreciated a note of warning, so as to properly organize a transport."

Gaff nodded, understanding Kase's implied rebuke. "The next larty up will suffice, Captain. And besides, there were….other mitigating circumstances that required the prisoner to be transported off-planet at this time."

Kase was about to ask Gaff for an explanation when the line of troopers ahead of them broke apart, to reveal a woman and child standing before an idling larty. The woman clutched the youngling to her side, her face pale and her eyes darting about in agitation. The youngling, a boy with curly hair and blue eyes, was more interested in staring at the troopers.

Behind them, Kezner gasped. "Maraneel. Owen."

Gaff stepped to the side, grasping Kezner by one shoulder and leaning down slightly towards the shorter man. "I suggest, Kezner, you make this opportunity count and say a proper goodbye to your family."

Kezner glanced at Gaff, then at Kase, who returned his gaze cooly. The former GFH leader opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and simply shouldered past the troopers, walking stiff-legged towards his wife and son.

Kase watched as the boy ran forward to embrace his father's middle. The woman hesitated, her eyes darting to the binders around Kezner's wrists, before she too stepped towards her husband and embraced him.

Kase and Gaff watched the family's interaction, while Hatch and Knock stepped back to a discrete distance.

"Commander Arhen requested the family be given a final chance to meet, before Kezner was shipped out."

Kase glanced at his commander, feeling wariness rise in him at the mention of the most unorthodox Padawan. He did not at all approve of someone as lax with the rules as she to being instated as a commander in the Grand Army, but voicing his misgivings in Gaff's presence was an exercise in futility and Kase did not approve of wasted efforts.

"I do not suppose the commander went through the proper channels to arrange this meeting before she left." It was more of a statement than a question and they both knew it, which was why Gaff didn't bother to answer and Kase did not probe further.

Though they might differ on how to lead a company, Kase knew Gaff understood him well, without him needing to elaborate on points of protocol and regulations.

A choked sob from Kezner's wife drew Kase's attention back to the family and he watched dispassionately as the woman wiped at her streaming eyes.

"Has the prisoner already been sentenced?" he asked, more out of a sense of duty to make conversation than actual interest. Kezner had, after all, been neutralized as a threat to F Company's mission on Gaftikar. Everything else that followed was a civilian matter.

"This morning," Gaff confirmed. "He has been sentenced to eight years in a Republic prison for acts of violence, stirring civil unrest and species persecution. His sentence would have been longer," Gaff added, with notable pride in his voice, "but according to the trial records, Commander Arhen forwarded evidence of Kezner's cooperation during the riots from our mission reports. The jury has decided to be lenient as a result."

"And you approve of this, sir?" Kase asked, just to be sure of his commander's reaction.

"I do," Gaff admitted. "I do not agree with Kezner's opinions or his methods, but I understand his motivations." He nodded towards the small family. Kezner was kneeling in front of his son, talking to the youngling earnestly. The boy kept shifting from foot-to-foot, in a manner that reminded Kase of Sighter. It would appear that the youngling did not agree with everything his father was saying, though he kept any objections to himself.

"Those closest to you are worth protecting, Kase," Gaff added, in a voice so soft only the captain could hear.

Kase studied his commander's face carefully, then turned that same studiousness on the Kezner family.

A minute passed, before Kase said, "Yes, sir. Good luck with the transport."

He gave his commander a crisp salute, then walked back to where he'd left Sighter, trusting Gaff to restore order in the vicinity once his task was completed and the prisoner had been taken off-planet.

As stolid as a rock holding steady against the ocean's assault, Kase dove back into the surrounding chaos, straight-backed and determined.

They had a base to disassemble.


	3. Chapter 3: Joy

**Joy**

She. Was. _Beautiful. _

Made up of sleek lines, polished durasteel and the newest battletech, the Republic Star Destroyer _Stalwart _was a testament to the ingenuity of the GAR and Kuat Drive Yards.

And she was Gaff's and F Company's new home.

_No, we're not F Company anymore, _Gaff reminded himself as he walked through _Stalwart's _many corridors, familiarizing himself with this ship's particularities. While all _Venator_-class cruisers were built upon the same blueprints, each ship - like every clone - had its little markers of individuality and Gaff was determined to learn them all by the end of the day.

Gaff ran a gloved hand over a section of bulkhead with a distinctive scratch pattern in the paint - evidence of some careless trooper scraping a shoulder bell or pauldron against the bulkhead.

He was attempting to mold his features into the appropriately disapproving scowl - and he _did _make a mental note to alert maintenance to the bulkhead's marring - but a smile kept edging its way onto his lips.

Artificial gravity tugged at his body. His boots rang against solid durasteel deck plates. The almost inaudible sub-sonic hum of _Stalwart's _powerful engines made his inner ear slightly vibrate.

His latest meeting with Clone Marshal Commander O'sic only capped the joy that suffused him at being able to walk through a Republic battle cruiser, knowing that _this _cruiser, would be his and his company's new base of operations; their place in the war.

"_Heard about that little stunt you pulled with the larty, back dirtside, Commander." Commander O'sic gazed at him steadily, his face professionally blank, but there was an undeniable glint of humor in his brown eyes. This was Gaff's third one-on-one meeting with the commander and he was beginning to suspect that O'sic had acquired a rather caustic sense of humor during the 18 months of his active service. "Swooping in on the civvies like that? Very clever. And effective it seems." He glanced down at the datapad in his hand, but Gaff had the feeling that the commander already knew its contents by heart. O'sic struck him as that kind of a leader._

"_Thank you, sir. F Company did what it could to alleviate the crisis." _

"_Hmmm, yes, about that." Commander O'sic rapped his knuckles thoughtfully against the 'pad. "I can't really allow an entire company of clones running around with a moniker like that, while under my command. 'F Company' just has that…._Kaminoan _ring to it. And you're not on Kamino anymore, Commander." A tick started up in O'sic's scarred cheek, almost impercetible. _

"_I've noticed that, sir." _

_O'sic shot a sharp look at Gaff and for a moment, he wondered if his reply had been too glib. Then a wry smile touched O'sic's lips and Gaff relaxed. _

"_Good to hear, Commander. Now, I'm going to rename your company as…" The tick jumped again, more noticeably this time and Gaff wondered where the commander had picked up such a peculiar tell. "Elix Company. Yes, I think that will do quite nicely. Consider it tacit approval on my part for you and your men to come swooping down any time and do what's necessary to," the lips twisted into something caught between amusement and bitterness "'alleviate' whatever situation Blazer Corps happens to find itself in. I approve of 'alleviation', as does General Arhen." _

_Commander O'sic made the relevant notes on his datapad, then handed it over to Gaff. "Welcome to the 49th Blazer Corps, Commander. And see to it that Elix Company covers up some of that unseemly white on their armor before we ship out again. All that shiny white hurts my eyes."_

_Elix Company. _Gaff rolled the name around in his mind. It was a good name and more importantly, one the company had earned, rather than been assigned by Kaminoan overseers. Names were meant to be earned; only then did they have any meaning.

"We're not shinies anymore," he murmured to himself, the smile turning into a grin as he realized he had a scratch on his gauntlet that matched the one on the bulkhead he'd been inspecting. Then, self-consciously, Gaff quickly looked about, inspecting the corridor to see if someone had observed Blazer Corps' newest company commander talking to himself and grinning like a fool at a scratch.

He was in the clear.

Gaff let out a relieved breath and before he was quite aware that it was happening, the smile was back in place.

He'd requisitioned paint in Blazer Corps' maroon color from Supplies and no doubt the paint had already been delivered to his quarters. Rank did, after all, have some privileges and Gaff had wanted to avoid the stampede. No doubt his men had already raided Supplies for every drop of maroon available. F - _Elix _Company, had been waiting a _long _time for the opportunity to deck out their armor in proper company colors.

Gaff glanced down the corridor, back in the direction of officer territory and his new quarters, a thought niggling at him. Absently, he ran a thumb over the edge of his bucket, clipped to his belt. His _bare _bucket.

Go back to his quarters and finally paint his armor or continue his inspection of the ship? He _could _study _Stalwart's _blueprints on his quarter's terminal and paint his armor as he did so, killing two gnatflies with one stone, so to speak. It would be more efficient and Commander O'sic had ordered all of Elix Company to paint their armor, whereas this inspection tour of his was more of a whim on Gaff's part.

To be able to cover up some of the white of his armor was a privilege a trooper waited for...But there was just something about _seeing _the entirety of his new home with his own eyes...

For what was probably the first time in his life, Gaff found himself not torn between two duties, but between two pleasures.

"Sir." Three troopers from engineering passed him by, saluting respectfully.

Gaff replied to their greeting with a nod, quickly schooling his face into a properly dignified expression.

"...so then the sergeant starts complaining about the waste disposal chutes on Deck C4..."

The conversation picked back up once the troopers thought themselves out of earshot.

"...can't believe the speed we're getting out of that new hyperdrive..."

Gaff tilted his head, his interest piqued. New hyperdrive?

He looked back in the direction the engineers had gone.

_I should finish my inspection of the ship, _he thought. _Get the complete picture while the details are fresh in my mind. _

And he could use the rest of the inspection to decide where to place Blazer Corps' flaming star motif on his armor.

He lightly tapped the back of his scratched gauntlet against the equally scratched bulkhead - feeling pleased and oddly whimsical - before retracing the engineers' steps back to the engine rooms.

A new hyperdrive had been installed in his equally new home and he wanted a good, long look at it.

The smile was working its way back onto his face.


	4. Chapter 4: Apprehension

**Apprehension**

The air in battle ops was thick with apprehension.

Garett watched the holo, his face impassive, as Grievous jammed the electrostaff into his former Master's back. Someone drew in a sharp breath as General Koth screamed with the pain, but no one said a word.

The cyborg's face loomed close, his eyes seemingly fixed on Garett alone.

_"Listen to me, Jedi. I do not care about your politics. I do not care about your Republic. I only live to see you die!" _

The recording cut off.

Garett continued to stare at the empty air for several seconds more, replaying the image of Eeth Koth being tortured by Grievous, before he pulled himself together and focused on the here and now.

The young Knight glanced at the other occupants of the room, taking in their reactions to Grievous' transmission.

O'sic's face was as blank as Garett's, his inner feelings only revealed by the steady tick in his scarred cheek.

The other three company commanders appeared to be in varying stages of shock.

Whynge, one of the veterans, had a dark look on his face, while Commander Nek had grown noticeably paler. Nek was fresh off of Kamino - a shiny, in clone parlance - and he looked like a man whose hydrostatic bubble had just been violently burst.

From the few verbal clues O'sic had dropped and his own interactions with Blazer Corps' contingent of rookies, Garett knew that clones had a rather..._ennobled _perception of Jedi; especially those fresh from Tipoca City. Nek had just gotten a crash course in a Jedi's mortality and he didn't seem to appreciate the lesson in the least. Garett felt a twinge of pity for the man. The expression on Nek's face reminded Garett of the day Jedi Master Du Mahn, one of the caretakers in the younglings' wing, had decided his sister was too old to continue sleeping with a security blanket. Nek had that same lost, confused sense surrounding his Force-signature as the then six-year-old Ro had displayed.

The newest company commander in their ranks, Commander Gaff, was stricken, but doing a good job of hiding that fact.

The two frigate captains, present only as holo-images, were blank-faced and deadly serious.

Garett breathed in the potent mix of turmoil permeating the battle ops and breathed it back out, releasing it and his own feelings into the Force.

"General Koth's forces have been decimated," he announced into the silence. "More than half of Horn Company's troopers were killed by Grievous' forces. _Steadfast_ and a good third of its support cruisers have been destroyed." Each pronouncement fell into the intense quiet like a pebble into a meditation pool, causing ripples that slid against his senses. "Blazer Corps," he continued, "has been ordered to remain on course."

The declaration caused a ripple in the Force as the men around him reacted to the orders. Even O'sic shifted slightly from foot-to-foot. Garett himself had only received the orders ten minutes before this debrief and had not yet had time to inform his second of the new developments. This was, for Garett, a bit of a novel sensation, as usually it was O'sic who always seemed to know everything ahead of his general. Had the situation been different, Garett might have slanted a sly look at the marshal commander, to gauge his reaction to this turn of events. Now though, he had more pressing issues to occupy him.

"What of General Koth, sir?" Nek asked, inclining his head respectfully towards the holo-projector, as if paying homage to the Jedi Master in absentia.

"The Republic is launching a rescue mission even as we speak, with General Skywalker and Kenobi in charge." That news had been a bitter pill for Garett to swallow. He and Master Koth had enjoyed a respectful and companionable relationship as Padawan and Master and Garett felt that he owed his former Master to come to his rescue. But Master Yoda had been firm on the matter and Garett could not argue. He was a Jedi and he could not allow such personal feelings to interfere with his duties. Master Koth would not approve if he did so. "_Stalwart_ is to continue to the Arda system."

Garett waved a hand and a holo-map of the Arda system sprang to life. Bright red lights marked their destined positions. "With General Koth's forces mostly out of commission, the Arda system has been left defenseless. It is up to us to hold the line against the Separatists in that sector. _Stalwart _will be heading to Arda-1, where we will rendezvous with the rest of Blazer Corps."

"One battle group to hold an entire sector?" Whynge asked, incredulous and outraged all at once. O'sic glanced at the company commander sharply and Whynge swallowed, his tone taking on a more respectful note. "General Arhen, the task would have been difficult already in cooperation with General Koth's fleet, but on our own?" Whynge shook his head. "Sir, it is my opinion that we will not be able to hold the line alone. We'd be spread too thin."

Garett glanced about battle ops. O'sic, Nek and Gaff seemed to be in agreement with Whynge - certainly their Force-signatures pulsed in the same frequency as that of the other company commander, a sure sign of mutual agreement. Garett glanced at the holos of the captains of the two frigates that had been sent as escort to Gaftikar, who'd been silent thus far.

"Captain Ypos? Captain Rondar? Do you agree with Commander Whynge?"

Ypos, a Human male in his late fifties with salt and pepper hair, frowned, exchanging a quick glance with his counterpart. Rondar shrugged.

"The situation is obvious," Captain Rondar told Garett, her eyes frank as she fixed him through the holo. "Even an entire battle group would be spread thin through a system. Should the Separatist focus their assault on one point in our lines, using a spearheaded attacked, they'd likely break through before reinforcements could arrive."

"They have the numbers," Ypos added. "They always have the numbers."

Garett bowed his head in acknowledgment of their assessments. "Thank you, captains. I suppose this will mean that you will be particularly perturbed to hear that _Horizon _and _Surety _have been ordered to accompanied us to Arda-1 and act as temporary support vessels to the battle group."

Ypos and Rondar glanced at each other once more and Garett was amused to see that the outcome of this silent exchange was the complete reverse of the first one. This time, it was Rondar who frowned and Ypos who shrugged fatalistically.

"Very well, General," Ypos said and inclined his head toward Garett. Garett privately wondered if he'd ever get used to having a man three decades his senior regard him as a superior. "If that is all, Captain Rondar and I will begin to prep our ships for hyperspace transfer."

"Do so, Captain," Garett said and gave the formal dismissal. The two captains saluted and their holos disappeared. Garett turned back to his clone officers, to find them frowning, one and all, though at completely different things.

O'sic's frown was directed at Whynge, while Whynge was busy regarding his boots with the same expression on his face. Nek was frowning in concentration, running his gloved hand again and again over the pristine white of plastoid that covered his arm.

Gaff, Garett thought, was thoughtful. He frowned as he studied the starchart of the Arda system, but of them all, his expression was the least severe.

"Are there any more questions, gentlemen?" Garett asked, feeling a little awkward. He had this sense that there was some sort of communication going on between the four clones, though none of them seemed focused on the other. But the Force hummed between them, no longer in perfect accord, but in some kind of harmony and Garett found himself wishing for a touch more Force-empathy. Like all Jedi, he could sense the general mood of the people surrounding him, but he did not have enough Force-empathy to actually pinpoint and identify each and every emotion, its source and many diverse shades, as his sister could.

"Sir," Commander Gaff asked politely, "aside from _Horizon _and _Surety_, is there any chance for more frigates to join the battle group?"

Garett cocked his head, thinking. "Not that I am aware of, Commander. Why?"

"The frigates are far more maneuverable than the Star Destroyers, sir," Gaff pointed out and quickly typed some commands into the control console. The holo flickered and several green dots appeared, moving up and down the red defensive line that marked the battle group's strategic position. "If we could commandeer a few more of the frigates, then they could patrol our lines in an overlap-maneuver. That way, should the Seps try to run the blockade, the frigates can move in and act as additional support, until other cruisers can arrive."

"And the frigates can plug some of those holes in our lines," O'sic put in. He stepped up to the projector, his eyes narrowed as he regarded the holo thoughtfully. "Not bad," he murmured, so quietly Garett barely caught the words. O'sic turned from the holo towards Gaff, a calculating look in his eyes that was softened somewhat by approval. "You've a talent for strategy, Commander."

Gaff straightened at the unexpected praise, but O'sic was already turning towards his general. "General Arhen, I think we should petition the GAR for more frigates. The commander's idea has value and should be implemented."

Garett regarded his second for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. I'll speak to the Council immediately." Then he turned towards Gaff. "Well done, Commander."

Commander Gaff ducked his head in what could have been a respectful gesture, but was just a tad too hasty to really be anything but embarrassment. Behind Gaff, Garett caught sight of Whynge's quickly hidden scowl and the undisguised look of admiration on Nek's face.

The debrief wound down quickly after that. There really wasn't anything left to discuss, at least not in the eyes of the clones. They'd been given their orders and now all that was needed was to see them through.

O'sic was actually the one to dismiss the men, allowing the junior commanders to precede him in what Garett at first thought was courtesy. Then he caught the gleam in O'sic's eyes and realized that he was just lulling Whynge into a false sense of security before pouncing on the man for his earlier show of disrespect. Garett wouldn't have made an issue of it, but when it came to troop discipline, he took his cue from O'sic. O'sic was far more qualified to judge what was and was not proper in the military context than Garett was.

"Commander Gaff," Garett called and Gaff instantly stopped, turning about-face. "A word?"

"Yes, sir."

O'sic shot Garett a surprised look, but Garett merely inclined his head, pointedly looking at the door.

The tick in O'sic's scarred cheek jumped once before the man turned to follow Whynge and Nek, leaving Garett and Gaff alone in battle ops.

"I've been hoping to speak to you privately, Commander," Garett began.

Gaff, he thought, looked both apprehensive and pleased. "How may I be of service, General?"

Garett held up a datapad. "This does not regard the mission at hand, Commander, but rather..." Garett winced involuntarily. "My sister, Commander Arhen." Force, that sounded strange, coming from him. He'd _been _Commander Arhen, not too long ago. Applying the title now to his younger sister was just..._strange. _Garett cleared his throat. "Specifically, the clone trooper assigned as her aide."

Commander Gaff visibly stiffened with wariness. "Yes, sir."

Garett stared at the other man, waiting for more, but when nothing was forthcoming, he waved the datapad slightly. "I've read Serge-_Lieutenant _Wren's personnel and service file and a few, shall we say, _anomalies _jumped out at me." Garett braced himself on the holoprojector, looking straight into Gaff's eyes. "For one, this is not the first time Trooper Wren has held the rank of lieutenant."

"No, sir, it is not."

Again, Gaff kept his answer short and noncommittal.

Garett pursed his lips. While he normally valued discretion and diplomacy, these non-answers were beginning to grate on his nerves. Where his sister was concerned, Garett wanted information, not SOP responses. "He was, in fact, promoted to the rank of lieutenant on Jabiim for," Garett glanced down at the 'pad, reading the sentence off the screen, "'acts of courage beyond the call of normal duty'."

"Yes, sir." Gaff seemed willing to give him a little information on that account. "Lieutenant Wren saved his Jedi Commander and squad from an ambush by the Jabiimi Nationalists. He was given a field-promotion by the Jedi in question."

"Yes," Garett picked up the tale, "and he used the moment to assault the Jedi with an EMP grenade, rendering the Padawan unconscious and taking command of the unit. He led the assault on the Jabiimi Nationalist cell and secured vital Intel for the Republic in the process." Not that it had made any difference in the long run. Vital Intel or not, the Republic had still been forced to abandon Jabiim and one of the bloodiest campaigns of the war so far. "And once Padawan Jaxxton woke up again and reported the incident - What was it, twenty minutes later? - Trooper Wren was demoted back to sergeant, giving him the dubious honor of holding the record in shortest tenure as an officer." Garett raised his pale blond eyebrows in obvious question.

Gaff cleared his throat, shuffling his feet slightly in an obvious show of discomfort. "I was not there, sir," he said, almost apologetically. "I'm only familiar with the incident via the reports, but it is my understanding that the, eh, _altercation _between the lieutenant and the Jedi stemmed from a disagreement about battle tactics."

"Yes," Garett said drily, "I know. I've read the same reports."

Gaff lowered his eyes in embarrassment at having accidentally implied anything less than his general's total familiarity with every aspect of the case.

Garett suppressed a sigh. Would the clones never loosen their hold on the image of Jedi perfection? Perhaps it was time to change his tactic.

"I've asked you to remain behind, Commander, because I have some legitimate concerns about the newly reinstated lieutenant being assigned as Commander Arhen's aide and clone escort."

Gaff's lips pressed tightly together and Garett knew he was not alone in his concerns.

"According to his previous commanding officers - and he's had a few - the lieutenant is as much conspicuous for his skills as he is for his disregard for discipline. His demerits are only outweighed by his citations and I believe the two most common words used to describe him are 'talented' and 'recalcitrant'. I'd like your opinion on the matter." And Garett quickly raised one hand, to forestall any hasty words on the part of the commander. "And I mean your _honest _opinion, Commander. I do not doubt the lieutenant is skilled. His file is filled to bursting with evidence supporting the claim. What I want to know is..." Again, Garett hesitated. It was _un-Jedi _of him to spend so much time involving himself in Ro's business and now pulling the commander into the affair as well, when they both had more immediate concerns to attend to. But the truth was, he was worried about Ro and unlike the situation with Master Koth - which was now completely out of his hands - he could do _something _about Ro. If this Wren character turned out to be an untenable risk, then Garett was quite certain he could convince his sister to drop the lieutenant and take one of the ARC troopers instead. But he also knew Ro well enough to know that he couldn't start this argument before he'd gathered all the facts. "I'd like to know whether or not the lieutenant will be an asset to my sister's work, or a risk. Will he aid her, or endanger her when the fancy takes him?"

Gaff looked down for a moment, his thumb tracing the lip of the helmet he had clipped to his belt. In the light of battle ops, the flaming star painted on the side of the commander's helmet gleamed. Garett was sorry for having put the man on the spot like this, but he wanted answers.

"Sir," Gaff began, hesitantly meeting Garett's eyes.

"Yes?"

Gaff took a deep breath, stood a little straighter and began talking. "Sir, Lieutenant Wren is one of the most arrogant, insolent and disruptive clone troopers it has ever been my misfortune to meet. He is, to put it bluntly, a maverick. His disregard for the Republic and a clone's sworn duty is only surpassed by his disregard for others. He is violent, ill-tempered and at times, seems to lack any control, even over himself. He openly debases the men he serves with, has no respect for the chain of command and is, in my opinion, a disgrace to the uniform."

Garett let out a long sigh, fighting the urge to run his hands through his platinum blond hair in agitation. "That," he said, "is a thoroughly troubling report, Commander." He knew it had been a bad idea to let Ro pick her own clone escort. For all her Force-empathy, Ro demonstrated, at times, a distressing inability to judge people.

"There's more, sir," Gaff told him.

Garett rubbed at his face with one hand. "I'm not at all certain whether I'm prepared to hear more without a meddroid in attendance."

A half-smile flittered across the commander's face. The clone quickly cleared his throat, obviously taken aback at this unexpected show of levity on the part of his Jedi general. "Sir, when I took command of Eyat Base, Commander Levet gave me some advice that, in retrospect, I wish I had followed."

"Oh? And that would be?"

"Commander Levet said, that in regards to Wren, I should tell him what needs to be done and then simply let him do it. I admit, I never did as advised. I did not care for Wren's methods or his attitude and as company commander it _is _my duty to oversee the workings of those under my command." Gaff cleared his throat again, looking slightly abashed. "If I may say so, General, your sister has a far different approach to command than I."

Garett wrinkled his nose. "That would be the diplomatic way of putting it."

Another smile, this one more confident and definitely fond, lit the commander's face. "Yes, sir. But what I mean is that, during the crisis on Gaftikar, Commander Arhen told me what she needed me to do and then trusted me to take care of the matter, without further need of supervision on her part." Pride tinged the words and Garett shot the commander a discreet look.

_Ro converted another one, _he thought, amused.

Unaware of his close scrutiny, Commander Gaff went on. "It never occurred to me how...how _good _it felt to be trusted to act so competently, yet so independently at the same time. It is obvious to me now, in retrospect, why Lieutenant Wren would resent my close supervision of his actions and if Commander Arhen allows him that...that same kind of freedom as she gave me, then I don't believe you have anything to fear. The lieutenant will ensure the commander's safety, simply because he is selfish enough not to want to risk losing an assignment that suits his more irregular tendencies."

Garett glanced down at the datapad, then moved away from the holoprojector and towards the viewport. He felt restless, but did not wish to begin pacing in front of a subordinate. It would be...undignified and improper. Staring blankly out at the vast starscape, he finally said, "Your report is not very reassuring, Commander, but I will take your assessment into consideration."

Commander Gaff knew a dismissal when he heard it. He saluted smartly. "Yes, sir." And he turned to leave battle ops.

"Commander," Garett called after him.

Gaff stopped, turning back around to face Garett, who still stared out at the distant twinkling stars. "Yes, sir?"

"Jedi do not fear," Garett informed him a little primly, even to his own ears. "Fear is the first step down a dark and destructive path."

It was obvious from the confusion that briefly flickered across the commander's face that Gaff did not understand his words, but he gave a proper nod nonetheless. "Yes, sir." And with another salute at his general's back, the commander left.

Garett closed his eyes, listening to the retreating footsteps and the sound of the revving hyperdrive. He breathed in and out, banishing the apprehension that filled his being - apprehension for his former Master, a captive to that monster, Grievous and apprehension for his sister, who seemed to stray a little farther away from him every day - until his mind was calm and open to the whispers of the Force.

_Stalwart _jumped to hyperspace and Garett opened his teal eyes just in time to see the fixed points of stars stretch and elongate into endless streamers of light against the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5: Flabbergasted

**Author's Note: Laloga, **as promised, here is your treat; another bit of Kase deliciousness. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Flabbergasted**

"The clankers never stood a chance." Wag drew one finger over his throat in an expansive gesture, making whirring sounds at the back of his throat like gears grinding to a painful stop. "We only had five loads of ammo left and we still greased the ground with their lube."

Jakk smiled, not so much impressed by the story, but rather by the enthusiasm with which Wag told it. The trooper was, in fact, in very real danger of upsetting his food tray with the wild gesticulations he used to punctuated every salient point. And they were popping up in this narrative like retail droids breaking cover.

Standing just behind Jakk in the line waiting to be served, Mekk piped up with one of his endless questions. "How can you take out two droid battalions with only five rounds left for the heavy cannons?"

Wag whirled on the other trooper and Jakk hastily reached out a hand to steady his tray, before the bowl of topato soup Wag had picked up a moment ago could go sailing through the entire mess hall.

"Are you calling me a liar, shiny?" Wag asked, chin thrust out in belligerent challenge.

Mekk, surprised at the attitude, took a startled step back, almost knocking over the tray of the trooper behind him.

But Ezec had fast reflexes and he managed to save his dinner from being smeared across his chest plate. He put a steadying hand on Mekk's shoulder, giving Wag a stern look. "How about you tone it down, Wag?"

Wag pulled a comical face and fell into an elaborate parade-rest, saluting at every other word. "Oh, sir. Yes, sir. Will do, _sir_."

Ezec, never one to have his leg pulled, merely rolled his eyes and steered Mekk past Jakk and Wag, cutting ahead of them in line.

Jakk sighed and took the tray away from Wag, deciding it was safer for all concerned if he carried both their trays. "Mekk didn't meant anything by it, Wag," he chided softly. "He's always asking questions, about anything that pops into his head."

Wag frowned, glaring at Mekk's and Ezec's backs. "And the long-necks let him get away with it? In my unit, if you asked too many questions, you got permanently promoted to the science wing."

Jakk flinched and hastily looked about the mess, hoping no one else from Elix Company had overheard Wag. Yes, sometimes Mekk's questions got a little annoying, but he was a good brother all around and well liked in the company. A comment like that was likely going to get Wag invited to the mats for a one-on-one.

Wag couldn't know that of course. He wasn't from Elix, but part of Flash Company. And like all of Flash, Wag was a veteran of several battles, not to mention Flash had been one of the first companies to be recruited for the 49th Blazer Corps, which allocated a special rank to all of its members. Elix - formerly F Company - was the newest addition and though their armor sported its own set of dings and scrapes now, that fact alone relegated Elix to the bottom of the battle group's hierarchy.

Still, hierarchy wouldn't protect Wag if someone took exception to his comments regarding Mekk, or any of Elix's members.

There were a few men from Jakk's company in line with them, waiting their turn to be served, but none appeared to be paying any particular attention to them. Jakk let out a relieved sigh, then grunted when a sharp elbow hit him in the ribs.

"Relax, shiny," Wag told him with a wink. "You'd think we were back on Kamino getting a prostate exam, the way you're looking over your shoulder."

"I think we're holding up the line," Jakk pointed out mildly, then winced once Wag's back was turned. He wanted to rub the growing sore spot on his ribs, but he still held both trays in his hands and Wag wasn't making _any _effort to retrieve his.

There were times, like now, when Jakk really didn't know whether or not he liked Wag. He was considered Flash Company's funny man, but Jakk rather thought some of Wag's jokes were more cruel than humorous. His wisecrack about Ezec's recent promotion was a good example. Ezec, dour even at the best of times, had been downright touchy since receiving his corporal stripes. Ezec simply didn't like the fact that he'd been advanced up the ranks because the recent deaths of seventeen of their brothers had created gaps in their company's chain of command and everyone understood his reservations; even Commander Gaff, who'd given him the promotion in the first place. Everyone, that was, except Wag, who, for reasons beyond Jakk, found Ezec's situation quite entertaining. Wag also tended to immediately dislike those who didn't share in his humor and again, Ezec was a perfect example. Which was probably why Wag seemed to be going out of his way to provoke the new corporal. And last but not least on the growing list of Wag's character flaws, there was the fact that Wag, like most of Commander Whynge's men from Flash Company, tended to treat rookies like their personal serving droids.

In light of all this, Jakk's squadmates found it difficult to understand why one of their own would want to spend any time with Wag outside of necessary duties.

Truth be told, Jakk liked the way Wag talked.

The man didn't talk like a clone, but like one of the people in the holobooks out of _Stalwart's _library, which Jakk was methodically delving in to.

"So anyway," Wag was back on track and loading the tray Jakk was holding for him with a bowl of sliced muja fruit and several thick slices of mealbread. "As I was saying before being so _rudely_ interrupted: We had the droids on the run, the heavy cannons pounding the tinnies into the grime with a _whang _and Captain Tryer ordered us to..."

"Wag, don't."

Wag was so startled by the unexpected interruption he almost dropped the mug of caf he'd picked up from the counter.

Around them, other men waiting in line had noticed the slight commotion and there was a simultaneously indrawn breath from every last one of those belonging to Elix Company.

"Wag," Jakk said slowly. "Put. The caf. Down."

Wag frowned. "What's the matter with you, shiny? You look like General Grievous just walked over your grave."

"That's Captain Kase's caf," Jakk answered, gesturing with his elbow at the number 9770 - Kase's serial number - stenciled in white along the rim. "Put it back," he said again, more urgently this time. He'd hoped that the rank, if not the name, would impress Wag, but much to Jakk's dismay, his words seemed to have the exact opposite effect than intended.

"Oh? A captain's caf?" Wag looked at the mug with growing interest.

"Wag," Jakk tried to gently take the mug away from Wag, but was seriously handicapped by the two trays he was still holding, "don't."

"Better listen to him," a jeering voice called from further down the line. Jakk turned and saw Carry, tray in hand, watching the events avidly.

"Oh, let him drink it already!" Someone else from behind shouted - Jakk didn't recognize the trooper.

"Stop holding up the line!" Another voice called.

These shouts, whether encouraging or disparaging, seemed to make up Wag's mind. He threw Jakk a sly smile and took a long, luxurious swallow from the mug.

Jakk watched, wincing in sympathy as Wag first blanched, then scrunched up his face in pure disgust just before he spat the mouthful of caf halfway through the mess. There was a rousing cheer, along with exclamations of disgust and snickers throughout the mess hall.

"Urgh!" Wag was gagging, trying to rinse his mouth of the taste by wiping his tongue with a napkin. "Oh, that's _disgusting._"

"I tried to warn you," Jakk said meekly.

"He did!" Carry called from his spot further down the line. Jakk threw his fellow fire support trooper a quelling look - not that _that _ever stopped Carry. The trooper was grinning broadly enough to split his face in half.

Wag, thankfully, was still too busy trying to recover from his fatal tasting to notice Carry. "What's wrong with that man?" he demanded of Jakk, taking another napkin for his tongue. "That stuff has to be 90% pure _sugar_."

"Thirty-seven, to be exact," a crisp voice said.

Jakk - and every other man in the mess from Elix Company - snapped to attention, the rest of the troopers present only a split second behind them. Jakk, remembering he still held two food trays, managed not to add to the mess by saluting his captain.

Kase stood, hands folded neatly behind his back, to one side of the serving line, staring down dispassionately at the puddle that had been his special caf, before raising his eyes to look pointedly at the mug still in Wag's hand.

Caught in the act, Wag swallowed, then winced as the last lingering traces of Kase's caf slid down his throat.

"Sir..." Wag trailed off, obviously uncertain as to how to defend himself. Considering what he said next, Jakk rather wished that for once, Wag had kept his mouth shut. "How can you drink that stuff?"

Kase plucked the mug out of Wag's unresisting hand and stepped towards the serving counter. Every trooper in line made room for him as he handed the now half-empty mug back to the droid operating the perculators. "Another order 1-9770," he ordered the tinnie before turning his steely gaze on Wag.

"Sugar," Kase informed him in his usually pedantic manner, "is a soluble carbohydrate that includes glucose, fructose and galactose, which the body can use to generate short burst of energy. Through careful calculations, I have estimated that a 37% sugar ratio in a single mug of caf can provide me with enough energy to purge the last of the fatigue poisons from my system before the beginning of a shift and increase my awareness by a general 10% before the end of the first hour of every shift."

Kase raised his eyebrows, inclining his head slightly as was his habit when inviting questions.

Jakk shot a quick look at Wag, but Flash Company's funny man seemed to be at a loss for words. Jakk couldn't remember if Wag had ever met Captain Kase, but if not, then this was sure one hell of a fitting introduction.

The serving droid chirped and pushed one long, prehensile arm past the troopers and towards Kase. The captain took the steaming mug of caf and drank.

Wag shuddered.

"If you care to take up the practice and increase your awareness levels, Private," Kase told Wag, "then I advice you to reserve your own mug and have the maintenance staff program the droid with your orders accordingly. Sharing utensils and drink containers is against health regulations and the first step to spreading sickness aboard a ship."

Kase nodded to Jakk. "Trooper." Then he turned to leave, mug in hand.

"Sir?"

Jakk couldn't believe it. Wag was actually going to drag this interview out?

Kase turned back, a polite but otherwise stoic expression on his face. Jakk knew the captain well enough to know that he was probably mentally counting down the minutes to the start of his next shift.

"You have a question, Private?"

"Sir, why caf?" Wag pointed at the mug. "Why not simply drink a glucose pouch before the start of the shift?"

Had Jakk had a free hand at that moment, he would have introduced it to his forehead.

Behind him someone - _Carry _- turned a laugh into a cough.

Kase's face turned disapproving and his tone, when he answered, was strict and chiding. "Private, you should be aware that according to regulation 602.61 of the Standard Survival Kit Manual, glucose pouches, along with ration cubes and medkits, are classified as emergency supplies and as such to be treated with the proper deference. To drain our supplies to satisfy my requirements of working standards would be irresponsible and a misconduct by someone of my rank. Caf, on the other hand, is available in ample supply aboard any GAR cruiser, as well as containing stimulants that are classified as addictive, but not listed amongst the prohibited substances. I would suggest, Private Wag, that you re-familiarize yourself with the SSKM and will forward that suggest to your commanding officer."

At that, Wag started spluttering almost as badly as when he'd drank the caf.

Jakk, sensing Wag was about to add another foot to his grave, kicked the man to save him from himself.

Kase, who'd ignored the byplay and had started walking back to the mess exit, halted and turned around. "Another thing, Private," he said, pinning Wag with his most penetrating stare. "Caf has a long standing in naval and military tradition and it is considered improper for an officer not to have at least the occasional cup, no matter the officer's personal feelings concerning the beverage."

And with that, Kase took a last demonstrative sip of his sugared caf and left for his shift, leaving behind a mess full of troopers trying to bite back laughter and one very flabbergasted Wag, whose chin had dropped somewhere to the region of his bellybutton.

Jakk shook his head sadly and walked past Wag, cutting ahead in line and grabbing two mugs of _unsugared _caf. "I tried to warn you." Wag was not, as he'd previously thought, the only trooper in Blazer Corps who could talk a man into the ground.

"Would you stop with the chatter and get the line moving?" Someone shouted. "I'm starving here!"


	6. Chapter 6: Fear

**Fear**

_"Safeguard, safeguard, safeguard. All hands to action stations. All hands to action stations."_

Gaff cursed as he yanked on the final pieces of his armor, hitting the edge of his bunk with the back of his legs as he did so.

"Stang." He slipped his bucket over his head, grimacing as drops of water ran over his face. At least he'd managed to wipe most of the soap from his eyes.

_"It all comes down to timing," _was what his training sergeant had said about warfare.

As he sprinted out of his cabin to meet the enemy for the first time, still soaking wet, Gaff finally understood the sarcastic twinkle in the man's eyes as he'd passed down that sage advice to a room full of cadets.

Gaff wondered if he'd remembered to turn off the shower.

The communications net was ablaze, O'sic's voice dominating the chatter as the marshal commander gave orders to his company commanders, who in turn passed them down the chain of command until they reached every lowly private.

"Commander Gaff reporting for duty," Gaff signaled through the command channel while he raced through _Stalwart's _corridors, heading for the main hangar bay. Elix was an infantry company; even without O'sic to issue the order, Gaff knew his men would have begun to gather in the hangar at the first sound of the klaxons, boarding the troop transports in preparation of hitting dirtside.

"Commander Gaff," O'sic acknowledged his inclusion in the command network. "Welcome to the fray."

Gaff winced as he ducked around a corner, barely avoiding a head-on collision with two naval officers. Whoever had decided to position officers' country at the top of the ship, with basically the entire cruiser between the living quarters and the hangar bay, had been a complete waste of genes.

"My apologies, Commander," Gaff gasped out, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I was...detained."

There was a telling pause, then a short _click _as O'sic switched to a private channel. "Butt-naked and covered in soap when the scramble came?" he asked, the hint of a smile in his voice_._

Gaff felt himself blush and was glad for the bucket hiding his face. "Yes, sir."

"The clankers are awkward like that," O'sic said, amusement mixing with kindly condescension. He promptly switched back to the battle group's main comm freq, once more all business as he barked out orders.

"We'll be running the Sep lines in a two-pronged attack. General Arhen will head Group Alpha. Group Beta is under my command. Elix, Battle Dogs, you're on Alpha. Flash and Prosper with me. LZ is hot and flak heavy."

Even as he raced through the hangar bay doors, a small window at the corner of Gaff's HUD opened to reveal a realtime feed of the landing zone, no doubt taken by scouts during the first recce of the planet.

Gaff felt his heartbeat kick up another notch as he saw a full battalion of tanks enclose the target city. The Seps weren't messing around on this one. This was more resistance than Gaff had seen during his entire stay on Gaftikar.

O'sic stood at the center of the storm of preparations, hands folded behind his back as he directed the infantry companies and fighter squadrons. Though his back was turned to Gaff, O'sic seemed to know the exact second the young commander entered the hangar bay, because there was another _click _and O'sic was back on the command comm channel with Gaff.

"Commander, you're on the larty with the general. You're his second on this caper."

Gaff almost stumbled in his surprise, though he never stopped his full-out run to the line of waiting larties. He swallowed, even as someone stifled a half-formed protest, audible even over the general chaos of battle preparations.

"Yes, sir," Gaff replied and hoped to all Nine Hells that he at least sounded confident and composed. _He _was supposed to second General Arhen on his very first tour with Blazer Corps? What was O'sic thinking? In Blazer Corps' still shifting hacking order, he was one of the most junior commanders. The post of general's second should have gone to one of the veteran commanders, like Whynge or Talla.

But of course, he couldn't voice his protests. Orders were orders and they were about to face the enemy for the first time as a battle group. His superior had given him his assigned post. Gaff would man it to the end.

He changed course abruptly, running past the gunship that held Kase and his men and raced towards the head of the line of idling troop carriers; their engines already revved and running hot in preparation of leaving the relative safety of the hangar bay. General Arhen, it would seem, was not the kind of man to lead his troops from the rear.

Around them _Stalwart _shivered as the first volley of Sep fire hit their shields.

The general's larty was easy to recognize; Blazer Corps' flaming star was displayed prominently on the gunship's nose, a lit lightsaber splitting the star in half. Even as he jumped into the waiting larty, Gaff had to admire Radar's artistic skills and guts. The pilot was practically thumbing his nose at the Vulture droids.

A strong hand gripped his wrist, pulling him into the larty's crew bay just as the gunship began its ascend. The blast doors closed firmly behind Gaff and the crew bay was cast into a reddish glow.

"Glad you could join us, Commander." General Arhen gave him a courteous nod and released Gaff's wrist. In the closed confines of the crew bay, Gaff became truly aware for the first time that the general was just as tall as a clone. The Jedi looked directly at him, meeting Gaff's eyes through the T-shaped visor. In the crew bay's red lighting, the general's normally teal eyes appeared grey.

Gaff swallowed hard, his mouth dry as he felt the slight tingle that signified the larty had passed through the hangar bay's shield and was now in hard vacuum. His first battle with Blazer Corps and he was the general's second.

His heart pounded a fast rhythm in his ears.

"It's an honor, sir," he said honestly.

There was no sound in space, but everyone felt the larty buck and shudder as the pilot weaved in and out of the heavy fire exchange between the Seps and the Republic turret guns, trying to follow the path being blazed by the starfighters towards the beleaguered planet.

Everyone grabbed for a handhold, except the general, who kept his balance with an easy grace.

General Arhen looked up, as if he could see straight through the durasteel and towards the space battle raging outside of the blast doors. "Indeed," he said, so quietly that Gaff had to read the word off of his general's lips. The word was accompanied by the briefest of wry smiles.

The larty continued to shiver as Radar evaded plasma bolts aimed at them. Their lives were in the pilot's hands and those of the starfighters flying escort for the troop carriers. Brothers looking out for brothers and it would continue that way when they hit the LZ and charged the Separatist's lines. That was the difference between clones and droids; the clone troopers were not just fighting for victory. They also fought for the survival of the man standing next to them; their brothers.

Gaff's gaze fell on General Arhen as the crew bay light turned from red to green.

The general had no brothers amongst Blazer Corps. He was the only Jedi in the battle group and as such, stood apart and alone.

_But not anymore. _O'sic had assigned Gaff to act as the general's second during the battle. That meant Gaff would watch his general's six, just like he would do for a brother. And if General Arhen were to fall to enemy fire, it would be because Gaff had let his general down.

He swallowed hard, but his mouth was as dry as Tatooine's Dune Sea.

The blast doors opened and General Arhen sprang out, his lightsaber igniting in the same instant and cutting a green swathe through the rain of red plasma bolts. Gaff was no more than a second behind him, his Deece raised and firing as the rest of the 49th Blazer Corps' ground troops stormed out of the landing larties and engaged the enemy.

As he followed his general into battle for the first time, covering his six, Gaff told himself firmly that the moisture pearling on his skin was water from his interrupted shower and _not _the sweat of fear.


	7. Chapter 7: Awe

**Awe**

Companion piece to Fear

* * *

His breath rasped in his ears; his pulse thrummed in his neck. Gaff's throat was dry and his muscles were tensed and sore. It seemed like he'd been holding the Deece for an eternity instead of five hours.

The Seps were pushing hard, going at the Republic lines with tanks, as well as B1s and SBDs.

But what was really threatening to break their backs were the three octuptarra droids advancing steadily and relentlessly. From high atop their three spindly legs, the octuptarra were spitting a steady stream of cannon fire down onto the Republic lines.

The result was utter chaos.

Around him was an endless hailstorm of red and blue blaster fire. In the private world of his bucket, his ears rang with shouted orders, panted breaths, curses, cries, screams and the endless calls for a medic. His HUD was alive with streams of information, windows continuously popping open to provide him with a new scan of the territory, another hazard analysis, an all too accurate count of wounded and dead troopers.

Gaff let loose with shot after shot, taking down one clanker after the other, but there were always more. He concentrated on the flash of green light ahead of him, of sticking as close to his general as he could.

General Arhen was cutting through the droid lines, spinning and pivoting, deflecting and avoiding the blaster fire aimed at him with what seemed like no effort at all. But Gaff was close enough to see the sweat trickling down his general's face, see the way his chest rose and fell in rapid breathing. General Arhen was spearheading the attack, cutting a clean line for the troopers at the back to follow and deflecting as much of the incoming fire back into the enemy's ranks as he could. But it wasn't enough.

Gaff's ears rang with cries of pain and surprise as the droids' fire found its mark - in the bodies of _his _men.

The spherical top of one of the octuparra swiveled in their direction and fired three shots - one after the other - into their line.

_Whoomp-whoomp-whoomp!_

The ground exploded around Gaff, flinging him backwards. He hit a downed AT-RT, the edge of the miniature walker digging painfully into his back.

Sound vanished; the cacophony of battle was reduced to a muffled buzz.

Gaff shook his head violently, scrambling back to his feet as his ears popped and sound returned to his world.

_"Medic! Medic!"_

His HUD scrolled frantic warning messages, the filters switching rapidly back and forth between polarization to try and see past the whirled up dust and dirt. Everything was brown and muted sunlight.

A beam of green light appeared in front of his face, so close to the visor that he could smell ozone through his bucket's air filters. He reared back instinctively even as a red plasma bolt ricocheted off of the blade.

General Arhen, his beige and brown robes making him almost invisible in the flurry of dirt, stepped in front of Gaff, protecting the commander while he regained his bearings.

"Commander, are you alright?"

"Yes, sir." His back ached, but admitting to anything else would have been unacceptable.

Gaff sighted up and aimed past the general at the hazy outlines of the droids still descending on them. In one window of his HUD, the KIA count kept ticking upwards, as relentless as the droids.

"Sir," he yelled over the noise of battle, "we can't take another hit like that!" He hated saying it - this was his first real battle - but it was his job to give the general a tactical overview. "Sir, we have to retreat! Regroup!"

General Arhen's lips tightened into a thin line. "We can't!" he replied. "We retreat and O'sic's entire left flank will be exposed."

And the casualties would rise rapidly.

The general's eyes tracked up to the octuptarra. "Hold the line," he ordered and leaped.

Gaff caught sight of the whirl of robes as the general performed a backwards flip, landing atop of the slagged AT-RT. But he couldn't keep a clear line of sight on the general. The droids were on him.

Gaff threw out his empty clip, hammering a B1 with the butt of his Deece. The clanker's head snapped back under the force of the blow, giving Gaff a clear shot at the vulnerable neck. He jammed his blaster's muzzle into the tangle of wires, snapped in the new energy pack and fired. The droid went down.

And then the air went still.

For a moment, he was caught up again in that seemingly endless second after slamming into the AT-RT. His ears popped anew and there was pressure, as if a giant were coalescing around him, making the very space around him too small for Gaff to inhabit.

He glanced up and saw General Arhen, balanced and utterly exposed atop the AT-RT, his lightsaber extinguished and hanging from his belt.

Gaff tried to shout a warning, but his vocal cords refused to work. Time itself slowed, as if the seconds needed to crawl through clinging mud.

General Arhen raised his hands, his eyes half-lidded as he stared out over the battlefield.

The nearest octuptarra _rose _into the air, its arching legs kicking out frantically as it lost contact with the ground.

"Kriffing hell."

Gaff didn't know if it was his voice that had uttered the words or someone else, but he agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly.

The general's eyes snapped open and time sprang forward with a roar. The Jedi Knight flattened his palms and the octuptarra crashed back into the ground, right atop two squads of clankers. He whirled on a second octuptarra and his hand thrust out again, palm flat, as if he were striking out at a foe.

The clanker was flung backwards violently, carving a deep furrow into the earth. B1s and SBDs went flying to either side.

Taking a deep breath, General Arhen faced the third and final octuptarra.

The clanker's droid brain had finally caught on to what was happening and was spinning its cannons towards the source of the invisible threat.

His face a mask of concentration, the general squeezed his right hand into a tight fist.

The octuptarra's legs snapped together, as if bound by an invisible rope. With an electronic squeal audible across the entire battlefield, the clanker toppled over. General Arhen relaxed his fist, then pushed his empty hand out, as if he were pushing against a durasteel wall.

The downed octuptarra went careening backwards, rolling like a log downhill over its own forces.

It had taken less than six seconds for the general to devastate the Separatist forces and turn the tide of the battle.

Gaff tried to swallow and found he couldn't. He'd seen it happen and yet, he was frozen in place as his mind argued that what he'd just seen was _not _possible. He had never before seen a Jedi use the Force. He had never seen such a display of raw power, cupped and cradled in the bare hands of a single man and the sheer awe that gripped him left little room for anything else.

Said man jumped off of his perch atop the AT-RT, landing beside Gaff in a crouch. The Jedi looked at Gaff, meeting his eyes through the T-shaped visor.

"It's time to advance, Commander." Sweat ran down his face and strands of pale blond hair clung to his dirty cheeks and forehead.

And awe was replaced with harsh reality; the powerful Jedi once more a general in the midst of battle.

_Get moving, _his mind screamed at him. The battle was not yet won.

Snapped out of his daze, Gaff stepped smoothly in front of his general, Deece firing a steady stream into the still advancing line of droids. Now it was his turn to buy his general some time to catch his breath.

"Advance," he shouted over the comms. "Take those clankers down!"

The men of Elix and the Battle Dogs regrouped around commander and general and pushed forward.

General Arhen rose, his lightsaber once more in his hand and ignited. He and Gaff moved with the rest of the men.

Now it was the droids' turn to drown in an overwhelming tide of blaster fire.


	8. Chapter 8: Disapproval

**Disapproval**

"He calls you lot 'test-tube soldiers'."

Captain Kase looked up from his datapad to consider Blazer Corps quartermaster.

"Who are you referring to, Quartermaster Braxx?"

The great Besalisk rolled his broad shoulders. On his portly body, the grey naval uniform appeared ungainly and slightly disproportionate, denting outwards at the belly and straining to cover the muscular arms. "Captain Slayke," Pershing Braxx explained. "The man we're bounding off to rescue. He says clones are nothing more than test-tube soldiers."

Kase considered this new piece of information for a moment, then shook his head, turning his attention back to the company inventory. "The captain is mistaken. We are grown in gestation vats, not test tubes."

Braxx stared at Kase, blinking his large eyes once...twice. The large wattle at his neck quivered slightly and his flabby lips twitched, as if he were unsure how to react to this matter-of-fact statement. Finally, Braxx settled for a non-commital shrug. "Good to know."

Kase's mind was already on other, more important, matters. "According to the reports we have received, Captain Slayke and his forces have suffered substantial damage over Diado. We will have to ensure that our supplies can cover the additional strain."

The quartermaster grunted. "We'll manage, but rations might be tricky." The Besalisk waved one of his four meaty hands down the endless rows of equipment and supplies. "Slayke's is a mixed bunch. The MREs we've got stocked aren't meant for eating by Mon Calamari or Parwan."

The clone captain nodded and made the necessary notation on his datapad. "Lieutenant Wess has expressed an interest in procuring bota for the medbay."

"Bota?" Braxx snorted. "You'd have better luck requisitioning grade-A spice for morale purposes, than bota for the medbay." The Besalisk's broad face went through a series of convulsions that might have been disgust or amusement. "Bota's too valuable to be used on the troops that need it most."

Kase studied Braxx' face for a moment, then lowered his eyes to his 'pad once more. "I'll take that to mean the request has been denied," he said, canceling Wess' requisition order.

Braxx snorted again.

"What is the status on our spare astromechs?"

"Eh..." Braxx glanced between the two datapads he held in his upper left and lower right hand, respectively, scratching the top of his head with his upper right hand. Due to the large crest that Besalisk males sported, Braxx was exempted from the necessity of wearing the cap with the rest of his uniform. "Haven't gotten around to that section yet," he admitted. "Manifest says we received a new shipment of spare parts, but they haven't been added to the inventory yet."

"Understood." Uncompleted tasks were not a source of joy to Captain Kase, but it was not within his rights to reprimand the quartermaster or dictate how he was to perform his duties. As a staff sergeant, Braxx served the entire corps and not a single company and therefore fell under the direct authority of General Arhen and Marshal Commander O'sic. "I will see to the matter myself."

Braxx gave another of his signature shrugs. "Suit yourself. Storage bay D, aisle 134." He pointed one blunt finger down the corridor that wound its way through the maze of shelves, past the weapon storage and towards where the newer equipment was stored. The Besalisk gave Kase a two-fingered salute before making his lumbering way back to the main requisition desk - his personal kingdom. Watching him go, Kase had to wonder how the GAR justified employing a man of Braxx' bulk. The Besalisk was tall as well as broad, forced to duck to clear most doorways and walk sideways to sidle through narrow corridors.

But Braxx was allowed to serve, which meant that the issue had been considered and declared as acceptable by their superiors. It was, therefore, not an issue for Kase to question.

The captain made his own way through the shelves, heading in the opposite direction of Braxx.

It didn't take him long to find storage bay D, but he frowned when he heard muffled voices coming through the storage door. The motion detectors noticed his approach and opened the door with a small _hiss _of hydraulics.

Storage bay D was one of the smaller storage areas in the requisition section. Astromechs - various models and all off-line - were racked against the wall along with bins and crates of spare parts for the droids. Six troopers had moved several of these crates into a loose circle, using them as seats and an improvised table as they talked and played cards.

The frown deepened when he recognized two of the troopers were men from Elix Company.

"I bet three days of KP duty," Carry said, throwing a piece of flimsi onto a small pile of similar flimsies, stacked neatly in the middle of the crate acting as a card table.

A corporal from Nek's Battle Dogs sighed. "Too onerous for my tastes. I fold."

"I'll see your KP duty and raise four days of garbage chute inspections."

A round of groans answered that bet.

"Forget it." A private with Prosper Company's insignia on his left bicep threw down his cards. "I fold." He nudged the trooper sitting next to him. "Gos?"

The pilot looked up from studying his cards and as he did so, caught sight of his captain.

Gos reacted with the exceptional reflexes of a combat pilot. As soon as he saw Kase standing in the doorway, Gos dropped his cards and shot to his feet, falling into a parade-rest as he saluted. "Captain Kase."

As if the name had been a signal, the other five troopers turned and - seeing that there was indeed an officer in the storage bay with them - rose and saluted. "Sir."

Kase swept them all with a narrow-eyed gaze, his eyes darting from one misdemeanor to the next. "At ease."

The men locked their hands behind their backs, the dignity of some ruined by the sabacc cards still in their hands.

"Appropriating requisite storage space for the purpose of gambling." Kase moved towards the men, his sharp eyes scrutinizing each one by one, noting boots in need of polishing and crooked lapels. "Misusage of valuable equipment," he pointed at the crates of spare parts that had served as furniture, "gambling aboard a GAR military vessel and participating in the illegal trade of assigned duties." Kase stopped right in front of Carry, who swallowed hard. "Attempting to shirk punishment detail, issued by your commanding officer."

Carry tried his best not to look at Kase without breaking formal protocol; an exercise in futility _and _it made him nearly go cross-eyed. Kase had been the one to assign Carry those three days of KP duty.

"Gentlemen," Kase broke eye-contact with Carry to sweep the assembled troopers with a cool gaze, "what we have here are several infractions of GAR rules and regulations. One by one you will step forward and give me your name and designation. You will then return to your assigned quarters and remain there until otherwise informed and/or issued the proper reprimand and punishment by your commanding officer. Let me inform you now that such behavior will not be tolerated in the future and that this incident will be recorded on your personal files..."

Gos' eyes flickered to stare at something over Kase's shoulder.

The captain turned about, to see Clone Marshal Commander O'sic, a mug of steaming caf in one hand, standing behind him. It was impossible to tell just how long the commander had been watching, but upon being recognized by Kase, O'sic straightened from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe. "Captain Kase." O'sic waved his mug at the other troopers. "Is there a problem?"

Kase's brows lowered in consternation. Surely the commander could see the infractions with his own eyes? "There is indeed, Commander. These men stand accused of having violated paragraphs 4 through 7 on proper conduct becoming a soldier of the Grand Army, as well as twelve other GAR regulations pertaining to equipment management and usage."

O'sic was nodding along with Kase's words, which was not unexpected. When it came to rules and regulations, Kase was never wrong.

What _was _utterly unexpected, however, was the commander's reply. "I am aware of that, Captain, which is why I gave the men permission to use the space in the first place."

Kase stared, then had to blink rapidly as he processed the words.

O'sic used this moment of confusion to step past the captain and towards the ring of troopers. He settled on an empty crate and picked up a stack of cards with the hand not holding the mug. "You are free to join us if you like, Captain," O'sic said, making a sweeping gesture at the table. "Gentlemen." And the commander looked pointedly from the six troopers to the abandoned sabacc game. "Shall we continue?"

The troopers - caught between a captain and a commander - exchanged confused and surprised looks. Several, including Gos, reseated themselves hesitantly, but Carry and the corporal - Sim, as Kase recalled - remained standing, glancing from Kase to O'sic as if wondering if the ambush would come from the back or the front.

"Sir," Kase straightened his shoulders, deciding to approach the situation from another angle. He had dealt with officers who were lax about the rules before. His own commander had a distressing tendency towards the same trend, though Gaff at least had the courtesy to discuss the issue beforehand with his captain. If O'sic, in his capacity as marshal commander, decided to hand down permission to break the rules, then that was within his right. There were, however, certain regulations that even a marshal commander could not ignore. "I regret to inform you that under Section 49 of the Officer's Handbook, officers are prohibited from fraternizing with all NCOs." And he really did regret having to point this fact out. Kase personally expected more decorum on the side of his commanding officers.

O'sic looked up from his intense study of the sabacc cards in his hand. He tapped the edge of the cards against the crate in thought, his scarred cheek twitching once before he folded the cards together with a snap.

"You're right, Captain, it _is _against protocol for an officer to interact in such a manner with his subordinates. Gentlemen," and he nodded towards the other players, "I fold." He pushed the cards away and rose to his feet, walking briskly towards Kase.

He actually _startled _Kase, by throwing one arm around the captain's shoulders. "I believe it is time that the officers of Blazer Corps begin their own, private, sabacc round," O'sic said, raising his mug to his lips so that Kase could not discern his facial expression. His tone, at least, suggested that the commander was quite serious.

"Sir," Kase tried to step away from the commander, without appearing disrespectful, "that is..."

"...An excellent idea," O'sic finished for him. "It will foster both cooperation between the different officers, as well as provide a relaxed and non-confrontational atmosphere for debriefs, updates and the exchange of ideas." O'sic talked as he walked out of the storage bay. Kase, still with the commander's arm over his shoulders, was forced to follow. "I'm certain General Arhen will approve of the idea when you present it to him."

Kase opened his mouth, but for the first time in his memory, he was at a loss as to what to say. There were no regulations pertaining to this situation. "Me, sir?" He was finally reduced to asking.

"Of course." O'sic gave the captain a look that suggested - mildly - that this should have been obvious to Kase. "You are, after all, the inspiration behind the idea, as well as the expert on GAR rules. There is no one better to compile a succinct and accurate presentation for the general, outlining the advantages of hosting...say...a weekly sabacc game for the officers."

Commander O'sic removed his arm from Kase's shoulders and lifted his mug at the captain. "I expect a copy of the report on my desk in an hour, Captain. And I suggest you brush up on your sabacc rule book."

O'sic continued on his way, weaving through the racks of supplies, while leaving Kase rooted to the spot.

The captain watched his superior leave, stony faced. It was only after Commander O'sic was well out of sight that Kase followed, his back stiff with disapproval.

It would seem that he had a presentation to prepare.

* * *

Back in storage bay D, Carry glanced around their makeshift sabacc round. Most of the troopers returned his puzzled gaze with bewildered looks of their own. The sabacc cards lay forgotten and scattered across the crate. "So," Carry finally asked the others, "are we still in trouble?"


	9. Chapter 9: Remorse

**Author's Note: **This is _not_ a happy chapter.

* * *

**Remorse**

Gaff had been trained in combat for a variety of terrains and had concluded that space and water were the most hostile environments to conduct a battle in.

He'd been wrong.

Space could suffocate a trooper in a cold embrace.

Water crushed bones and organs beneath its immense weight.

But neither was as cruel a terrain as the mountains were. Mountains were the true killer, for they destroyed a body and mind with pure indifference.

They didn't care if you died on their tops from your wounds, the cold, the lack of oxygen or other deprivations. They just watched as you collapsed and remained unmoved. Standing aloof from a trooper's misery, craggy peaks watched the scene unfold.

* * *

"We've run out of options, Jakk."

Gaff was trying to do this as gently as possible, but the ugly truth was that all he wanted to do was beat some sense into the trooper. Or collapse and do nothing at all. Given his current state, either was likely.

"Sir." After almost two weeks of the strictest rationing and three days of nothing but melted snow for nourishment, Jakk was as gaunt as the rest of them. Deep hollows were carved into his wind-burned cheeks, dark circles rimmed his eyes and the plastoid plates of his armor hung loosely from his body.

It was like looking in a mirror and Gaff didn't like at all what he was seeing. He should have done this much earlier, but Gaff had been dreading just this kind of confrontation.

"Please." The word was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, almost drowned out by the shrieking wind. That eerie keen never stopped - night or die - and it was beginning to drive Gaff insane. The plateau they were trapped on wasn't large and there was nowhere Gaff could go to escape the sound of the wind slicing past the precipitous mountain face. Even in his dreams, it haunted him.

"Jakk..." His stomach was so empty it felt bloated. He was lightheaded from hunger, with a steady headache pounding just behind his eyes and his patience was about to snap. He didn't want to do it that way, but wasn't sure anymore if he could prevent the inevitable. "Jakk," he tried again, "it's him or us."

Unaware that its very life was in the balance, the nerf calf playfully butted Jakk's backside, lowing softly.

It was a ratty, scrawny beast that had somehow managed to survive the razing of its mountaintop village. Upon hearing the troopers move through the ruins in a futile search for survivors, it had shambled out of the burned-out remains of a barn, greeting them with enthusiastic and desperate bleating. The calf hadn't been much more than skin and bones and didn't look much better now, despite all of Jakk's loving efforts.

"Please, sir," Jakk tried again. His eyes were feverish with desperation and the onset of starvation. "Just one more day. Reinforcements could arrive any day now."

"We won't last another day," Gaff finally snapped. His finger stabbed out, down the mountainside. "The clankers won't wait another day."

Despite their growing weakness, Gaff still sent out scouts to probe the no-man's land of icy fields and treacherous escarpments. Each time the scouts had had to retreat under the barrage of plasma fire the Seps sent their way. It was bitterly obvious that unlike the clones, the droids weren't suffering from supply shortages. Of course, technically speaking, neither did the clones.

They'd been sent into the mountain range with everything needed for a week-long engagement. But one week had turned into three and logistics had not counted on their supply lines to be cut off, or for most of their food stores to be lost to a late-night aerial bombardment. Gaff's men, kitted out in snowtroopers' armor for the assault, weren't likely to suffer from hypothermia anytime soon and they had enough plastents to shelter against the cutting snowstorms that raged at this altitude. But they were running low on ammo and dry rations were nothing but a fever-dream. Worse, the men were beginning to crack under the strain.

The droids had forced them to retreat onto this inhospitable plateau. There was enough cover, but no means to escape except through the Sep lines. They were caught like gooberfish in a barrel and the clones knew it. The droids knew it as well and were deliberately delaying the attack, until the clones were either dead of starvation or at least too weak to put up a fight.

It wouldn't be long now until his men collapsed beneath their E-Webs.

Jakk put his arm around the nerf calf's neck, scratching the tangled, filthy pelt. The calf nudged Jakk's side, smearing his armor with its dark saliva. Its four horns were still too immature to gouge the trooper from neck to navel.

The two made such a pathetic image.

Gaff closed his eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning. Despite the sharp bite of the wind and the cold against his face, Gaff had decided to dispense with the helmet. There was nothing he wanted more than to drown out the howling wind, but he also felt that if he spent another second locked up in his suit, breathing recycled air, he would go mad. He had never before felt claustrophobic in the confines of his armor, but amongst the unending vista of hard snow and grey sky, the armor felt too much like a restraint, rather than protection. Gaff hadn't taken the armor off for a single hour in three weeks.

"Jakk, don't make me order you to step aside."

Jakk swallowed. He too had removed his helmet and now his eyes darted to the rest of the men.

Gaff had ordered the men to give him and Jakk privacy. Which meant they had a corner of the plateau and about a meter of empty space to themselves. But Gaff was no fool. He knew his troops were listening to every word, watching their every move.

_Watching hungrily. _

It was an uncharitable thought. Before the situation with thier food supplies had become critical, Gaff had seen almost every man in his party sneak food to the nerf calf. Gaff himself had shared half a ration bar with the slobbering little beast. No doubt that was one reason why the little calf had insisted on following them. Of course Jakk, completely besotted with the animal, had encouraged it every step of the way.

Ultimately, it was Jakk's nerf calf. Which was why Gaff felt it necessary to explain to the trooper what the rest of the team already knew.

"If we don't eat something soon," he said, striving for a softer tone, "we'll die. We'll _die, _Jakk and how long do you think he will last in the mountains alone?"

Jakk's arm tightened around the nerf's thin neck, his chin dropping to his chest.

"Sir," he mumbled, but Gaff continued, gently but resolute.

"It's for the best."

Jakk heaved in a hitching breath. In a far tent, one of the wounded set off in a long series of hacking coughs that sounded wet and which made Gaff's empty stomach churn. Hoarsely, the man asked for something - anything - to eat; the words carried clearly to them by that hellish wind.

Hearing his brothers in pain broke Jakk's resistance. Gaff knew it from the way the fire support trooper's face crumpled; how his eyes grew dull. Jakk sank to his knees and pressed his face into the calf's matted fur, hugging the animal hard. "Goodbye, boy."

The calf tried to nibble on his ear, but Jakk was already up and running. Gaff didn't think even Jakk knew where he was running to.

And then Gaff and the calf were alone.

He looked down at the animal and, unnervingly, it looked back up at him, peering through a fringe of tangled fur. Even though each of the beast's ribs were visible, its round black eyes were still bright and curious.

Filled with remorse, Gaff drew his blaster and pressed the muzzle against the vulnerable spot of the nerf's skull; right between those bright button eyes. The calf's nostrils flared and its tongue darted out, as if trying to taste the Deece.

"I'm sorry," he said and pulled the trigger.

* * *

The next day, the howl of the wind was drowned out by the whine of larty engines.

Reinforcements had finally arrived.


	10. Chapter 10: Contempt

**Contempt**

"Commander!"

Surprised by the unusual harshness of the summons, Gaff turned away from his debrief with Wess and Kase. Commander O'sic stood just a few steps away, gesturing peremptorily for Gaff to join him.

"Carry on," he told his people and jogged towards O'sic, who turned and walked away as soon as Gaff was at his side. The marshal commander had his helmet tucked into the crook of his arm and so Gaff saw that the tick in his scarred cheek was moving at a furious pace.

"You've handled civvies before?"

Gaff was as taken aback by the question as he was by the commander's unusual behavior. He'd never seen O'sic so out of sorts before.

"Yes, sir. Running planetary security on Gaftikar required me to liaise with the civilian government, as well a closer interaction with the population than I am told is usual." _But you already knew that, so why ask? _

"Good." O'sic's strides were quick and slightly jarring, as if he were trying not to stomp his feet. "Then perhaps you can _liaise_ some sense into these mongrels."

Gaff almost stopped dead in his tracks at hearing Blazer Corps' second in command use the offensive term for non-clones. It wasn't uncommon to hear the ranks bandy the word about, but the officers tended to be more careful about what came over their lips. Though Gaff had no doubt that more than a few of Blazer's officers _thought _in those terms, he privately considered it a bad idea to fall into such a pattern. There were many non-clones in the GAR, must holding high positions and it wouldn't do to start thinking of your captain, commander, general or admiral as a mongrel only to have the word slip out at an inopportune moment. And he _never _would have pegged O'sic as susceptible to such biases.

They passed a squad of troopers setting up the First Aid Station under the careful watch of a medic, moving steadily towards the edge of the growing base camp. Preparations for the upcoming battle were going well and Gaff felt a twinge of gratitude and satisfaction at being ahead of the Seps for once and having this time to prepare.

Then O'sic led him onto the landing field and Gaff saw the problem immediately.

Whynge was trying to shout down a group of the local freedom fighters, an idling larty nearby, the pilot peering down at the scene through the canopy, clearly reluctant to fire the engines with the civilians so close.

"You will return to your station immediately!"

"The Republic is here now. You don't need us anymore!"

Gaff grasped the situation upon first glance and felt a sigh of resignation escape him. _Shab. _He half hoped that O'sic would lead him past the arguing group, but no such luck. The marshal commander stayed right on course, coming to a halt just a step behind Whynge.

The civilians must have recognized O'sic as the man in charge, for they stopped talking to Whynge and turned as one towards him and Gaff.

"No more delays," the leader of the group announced. "We're getting on the next transport."

Whynge's body was a study in barely suppressed fury. "And I told you, there's no room on the transports."

O'sic jerked his head at Gaff, indicating he should take over. Unlike his subordinate, O'sic had himself well under control once more; only the rapid tick in his scarred cheek indicated how agitated he was by the entire situation.

Gaff stepped forward, spreading his hands in the air in a gesture of openness. Pulling off his helmet so the civvies could look him in the eyes, he asked, "What seems to be the problem?" As if he couldn't guess.

"You in charge?" the leader challenged. She was a tall Togruta, with dark purple skin and impressive montrals. The tips of the lekku streaming past her chest were twitching in agitation, reminding Gaff of O'sic's own telltale tick. He quickly glanced back at his commander and saw O'sic nod.

"Yes, I am."

To the side, Whynge went rigid at the words.

"Now how can I help you, Miss..." He trailed off, waiting for a name to be offered.

The Togruta braced her fists on her hips, flashing him a quick look at her pointy teeth. "Toree and no missy about it. That shiny boy isn't allowing my people on the transports and we won't have it."

Gaff tried very hard not to glance in Whynge's direction, wondering if Toree knew the depth of the insult she'd just dealt the commander. "Ma'am," he strove for a tone that was conciliatory, but not submissive. Respect; that's what this came down to. He had to make her understand that he respected her and her band of fighters, but ensure he did not lose an ounce of their respect for either him or the uniform. "Ma'am, you have to understand that the transports are currently needed to bring down the supplies necessary for us to build up an effective defense of your homeworld."

She was unimpressed by his logic. "But the transports are going _up _empty. No problem filling all that empty space with my people." And she gestured past the landing area and her tight-knit band, towards the locals who'd begun to gather at the edge of the Forward Command Station, still too spooked by the clones to completely leave the ruins of their houses.

"You're right," he said and she blinked furiously, trying and failing to hide her surprise at his admission. Whynge turned his helmeted head sharply towards Gaff and he sensed more than saw O'sic taking a half-step towards him, ready to interfere. "It would be no problem taking your people up. But ma'am, all that's up there are _warships_. Once the Sep reinforcements arrive, they're not going anywhere but into battle."

"We were promised safety once the Republic arrived." She wasn't giving up and neither were her followers.

"And we will do everything in our power to keep you safe," Gaff agreed. "Which is why we cannot allow you to board those transports. Your people will be far more vulnerable aboard those ships when the fighting starts than dirtside. Here, you have cover. Aboard a ship, you'll only have the shields and the hull to keep you alive. Your odds are better down here." He deliberately let his voice carry to the larger group beyond the camp. It was important that these people understood that everything the troopers did - even the restrictions - were designed to ensure the safety of the civilians. If Gaftikar had taught Gaff anything, it was that most civvies saw the Republic not as their champion, but as just another acklay waiting to take a bite out of them. He had to change that image, at least for now, and do so quickly.

"We can't just let them hide in their burrows, for us to do all the work. They have to cover our left flank."

Of course, changing minds was a hard thing to do when your own people were acting like the proverbial ronto in the porceplast store.

Toree whirled on Whynge and several of the other freedom fighters stepped closer to her, closing the ranks against the commander's words.

"What you say?" the Togruta demanded. "You think we've just been hiding like womp rats? We've been fighting, clone, long before you've stepped a boot on our planet. We've been doing _your _work."

Gaff kept his expression calm and placating as he neatly stepped between Toree and Whynge, though personally, he would have liked nothing better than to order the commander to a week's worth of KP duty. The man was worse than Kase. His captain at least understood the _rules _of diplomacy. Whynge wasn't even bothering with tact, let alone hiding the scorn in his voice.

"I apologize for my colleague," Gaff said, deliberately slipping into civvie slang. "He did not mean to belittle the efforts of you and your resistance cell." He raised his voice slightly to cover Whynge's muttered protest. "You've held the Separatists at bay and the Republic cannot thank you enough for your efforts. But now that we are here, we do need your help."

Toree's eyes flicked from Whynge's helmeted face to Gaff's open expression, seemingly uncertain whose interpretation of events she was willing to trust. But perhaps she did see some of Gaff's earnest admiration for her and her people. They _had _done something astonishing here; rebelling against the Sep invaders from day one and doing so at great cost to themselves and with none of the clones' years of extensive training or equipment. Gaff _did _respect the freedom fighters for that, because he'd seen how easy it was for the civilian population to either sit back and do nothing, or turn on themselves.

Or perhaps Toree simply liked being flattered. Either way, she demonstratively turned her back on Whynge and focused solely on Gaff, sending a clear signal to her followers.

"That's not what we've been promised by our senator in Coruscant," she said. The tips of her lekku curled with disgust, but with nowhere near the same agitation as before. "We were told, once the Republic's here, my people wouldn't have to fight anymore. That we'd be protected by Coruscant."

It would be wrong to point out that promises were often broken during war or the fact that Coruscant alone _wasn't _able to protect this planet or any of the planets in the Outer Rim. If the Republic had that kind of military might, then this war never would have happened.

"I can see that there has been a grievous miscommunication here, ma'am." Gaff shook his head, his eyes quickly taking in the growing crowd at the edge of the field, gauging their mood, before turning back to Toree. Apprehensive, but attentive. He could work with that. "Blazer Corps was promised your cooperation in its efforts to liberate your planet."

Toree narrowed her eyes and the corner of her lips curled back in the beginnings of a snarl. "That so?"

"Yes, but if I might suggest a compromise, ma'am?"

Toree settled back on her heels and glanced at the men and women standing behind her, no doubt reading their reception of this proposal. "Go on."

Gaff folded his hands behind his back, ducking his head slightly so as to appear both thoughtful and humble, trying to phrase the orders they'd received as a suggestion instead. "If a few of your resistance cell could volunteer as scouts, my men and I would be very grateful. You know the land, the best means of setting up supply routes; ambush points and potential dead ends. Your people do not have to fight, but if you could help us become familiar with your home, that would be extremely helpful. You are the locals here, we and the Separatists are the strangers. You can go where we clones would only stand out. You can get closer to the Sep lines and probe their weaknesses than we could ever hope to do."

With each bit of barely disguised praise, Toree and her freedom fighters looked more and more mollified.

"Suppose we could do that," she finally said. Then she straightened her shoulders and threw back her head, looking at him with a slight touch of hauteur. "I'll have to discuss this with my troops. We're a democracy after all."

_That, _Gaff knew, was a lie. It was as clear as the duracrete beneath his feet that Toree made all the decisions here, but if that was the image she wanted to cling to, then he wasn't about to argue. Instead, he stepped back and gave her a respectful nod. "Thank you for your time, ma'am. We appreciate it."

As soon as the group was out of hearing range, Whynge was on him.

"What the _shab _was that all about?" he hissed. "You made us sound like incompetent _di'kut, _groveling at their feet."

Gaff grabbed Whynge by the shoulder bell and pulled him further along the landing pad, back to where O'sic was waiting for them.

"No, I made it sound like we needed their help. Which we do."

Whynge wrenched himself free of Gaff, turning on the younger commander. "They would have come running soon enough once the shooting started."

Gaff stared at the man. Whynge couldn't really be that stupid, could he?

_He's never fought on a populated planet before, _he reminded himself. _All his previous postings were already evaced of civvies. _Gaff, on the other hand, had experienced first hand the kind of chaos that could ensue if you forced an unwilling and resentful population into cooperation. But this was more than a mere lack of personal experience. Gaff could see it in the other mans' posture, in the way he spoke. Whynge didn't just dislike civilians. He was contemptuous of each and every one of them.

"Once the shooting started," Gaff said quietly, "it would have been too late and the only thing we'd be left with are their bodies."

The T-shaped visor gave away nothing. "Better them than us."

"That's enough, Whynge." O'sic finally stepped in. "Get your men ready. I just got word from the general. _Stalwart's _picked up a sensor trail. The Sep reinforcements will be here in another rotation."

Whynge was a good soldier, despite his other faults. He saluted O'sic smartly and ran off, throwing Gaff one last look.

"Sir, he's wrong," Gaff told O'sic. "Our purpose is to protect civilians. The entire idea behind the clone army was so that real soldiers could do the fighting instead of the innocent."

O'sic looked at him, his expression inscrutable. Gaff was beginning to believe that his superior donned that particular mask whenever he was evaluating someone anew. Or when he was about to voice an opinion that was - but wasn't quite - what he really thought on the matter.

"That's what our flash-training tells us," O'sic said, then jerked his head towards Toree's retreating group. "But it's surprising how attached those innocents get to their blasters and how well they can learn to tote them. Think they'll fight?"

Gaff looked at his commander sharply. O'sic's tone had been utterly neutral, but there was something in the man's hard eyes that spoke of a contempt that was somehow different and yet the same as Whynge's.

"I challenged them, sir," he said slowly. "I admitted they're better than us in some things. Now they'll want to prove it. Helping us scout the terrain will mean they'll need to carry arms and sooner or later, they'll want to prove they're better with a blaster than we are. Yes, sir, I think they'll fight with us."

O'sic raised one eyebrow. "Good enough. Now get moving, Commander. We've got Seps incoming."

It was Gaff's turn to salute. "Sir, yes, sir." He raced off in search of Kase and Wess.

"Commander."

Gaff stopped abruptly at O'sic voice. "Sir?"

"Good job." O'sic didn't look at him as he said the words, but kept his gaze fixed on the retreating civilians. "General Arhen would approve."

_But do you_? Gaff wondered. "Thank you, sir."


	11. Chapter 11: Weariness

**Author's Note: **A huge thanks to **laloga**, who suggested this scenario.

* * *

**Weariness**

There was no mess hall, so Garett settled next to one of the many fire-pits the troopers had built, trying not to spill his bowlful of thin soup.

"Force," he groaned and leaned his head against the crate serving as his backrest. He hadn't felt this bone weary since Geonosis. His entire body was a dull, throbbing ache, the muscles sore and tense. He could have banished the pain, easing it back into the subtle currents of the Force, but he was too tired even for that relatively simple exercise. And he wasn't the only one. Past the fatigue-induced headache, Garett could feel the hastily set-up camp exhale its exhaustion. Even the Force felt tired, stretched thin from exertion.

He ate a spoonful of the soup, grimacing at the watery taste. Ration-stew, as the troopers called it, might have all the proteins and calories a body needed, but it had about as much taste as...something...bland.

Sweet Core, he was even too tired for similes. Now if only he could actually get some sleep.

Garett rubbed at his eyes; they felt as full of grit and sand as a Tatooine sandbox. But though the light thrown off by the fire only aggravated his discomfort, sitting out here in the fresh air was still far preferable to being back in his stuffy tent, tossing and turning on his pallet with no end in sight to his circling thoughts.

_I'm frazzled past all common sense, _he thought as he doggedly made his way through the terrible soup. Perhaps it was time to speak to one of the medics about a soporific; he was of shamefully little use in this state.

A log cracked in the fire and the sound of approaching footsteps caused Garett to jerk upright.

"Wh..."

"General Arhen, permission to take a seat, sir?"

Garett blinked a few times, squinting as he tried to force the armored shape before him into focus. Minimal maroon piping on the legs and arms, captain's insignia; the helmet tucked beneath one arm at an angle so sharp it couldn't be anything but exact regulation standard, a painfully correct haircut...

"Of course, Captain Kase." Garett hurriedly nodded towards the empty space beside him as he put a name to the face. He felt a not-insuficient amount of satisfaction as the captain thanked him and settled down, proving that Garett had guessed correctly. _And if that doesn't prove how tired I am..._He couldn't even finish the thought, his head felt so fuzzy.

The captain did not sit beside his general, but kept a respectful distance away from his commanding officer. Garett waited, half-expecting Kase to start up a conversation, but Elix's captain didn't appear to be interested. After observing the necessary formalities, Kase pulled a datapad out of his pack and began to read.

At once relieved - he really didn't feel up to holding an intelligent conversation - and slightly disappointed at being usurped by a datapad, Garett turned his attention back to his bowl. Much to his amazement, he discovered that the tiny rest of soup he'd failed to scrape from the bottom had grown cold and congealed. He poked the leftovers with his spoon and a small, brown lump of half-softened ration bar floated to the surface.

O'sic actually enjoyed eating rations, but as far as Garett was able to tell, he was the only one. _Good thing I wasn't really hungry to begin with. _He tossed the rest of the soup into the fire, where it sizzled and made the fire sputter and spark.

Garett leaned back against the crate, arms folded over his stomach. He closed his eyes, trying to touch the Force and find some solace for himself there. Perhaps he should meditate and hope that the effort would send him to sleep.

But his mind kept prowling through the camp, pricked into impotent alertness by the ripples of disturbance generated in the Force by soldiers pushed past their limits and ordered to continue anyway. Garett was not a particularly strong Force-empath, but even he could feel the mingled frustration and grief of his men, as they forcefully pushed the sorrow over fallen comrades away and focused on preparing for another day of fighting - and more dead, for whom there was no time to mourn.

And then he hit a...a blank spot.

No, that wasn't right. Garett furrowed his brow in thought. There was a point in the Force that was...not _blank, _but simply devoid of the nervous energy and stress that had kept him from dropping off to sleep. This was _calm _and the source was sitting right next to him.

Startled, Garett sat up from his slouch and turned incredulous, blood-shot eyes on the captain.

Captain Kase seemed unaware of his scrutiny, utterly enthralled by whatever it was he was reading and he was...relaxed, calm. The Force around him had settled into a smooth partition with something akin to a sigh of relief, separating Kase from the fraying fabric that was the rest of the camp.

It was a testament to his surprise and fatigue that Garett spoke before thinking. "How do you do that?"

Kase looked up from the 'pad, a small frown the only outward sign of his confusion. "Sir, I am afraid I do not understand the question. What precisely am I doing that you would like me to explain?"

For a moment, Garett wondered if the captain was being sarcastic, but there was no hint of that in the man's Force-signature. The Jedi rubbed at his forehead, mentally cursing himself for his slip. He briefly considered explaining, then decided he didn't have the wits or the energy for a long discussion about the workings of the Force with a non-Force-sensitive. "My apologies, Captain. What I wanted to ask was what are you reading?" He nodded at the datapad in Kase's hand.

Kase looked down at the 'pad and Garett felt him relax just the tiniest bit. He even thought he caught a glimmer of joy, but Kase was too stolid for him to get an accurate read.

"I am rereading the maintenance manual for the DC-15S, sir."

"Rereading?" Garett asked stupidly. Force above and beyond, he hadn't even gotten through all of the manuals once in all the months he'd been knighted.

"Yes, sir." Kase straightened even more, obvious pride somewhat softening his usually aloof features. "Naturally the information contained within the manuals was part of my flash-training, but I feel that it is important for an officer of my station to regularly re-familiarize oneself with the information contained, so as to keep it at the forefront of ones mind. Proper weapon maintenance is key to the success of any army."

Garett scratched the growing stubble on his chins. "I...see." He didn't think he'd ever heard the captain speak so much all at once, nor so - for lack of a better word - animated. It occurred to Garett that he really didn't know all that much about Captain Kase. Aside from his brief courtesy call and one very memorable presentation - on the virtues of _sabacc _of all things - Garett didn't think he and Kase had exchanged more than courtesies in all the weeks Elix Company had been part of the 49th Blazer Corps.

_What does he do during his off hours? Why is he sitting with me, instead of his brothers? How does he take his caf?_

"And you enjoy reading these manuals, Captain?"

"Sir." Kase appeared slightly puzzled by the question and the pool of calm surrounding him rippled ever so gently, as if a daywing had alighted on the surface of a lake.

_Leave it be for now, _Garett admonished himself and gave the captain a reassuring smile. "Never mind me, Captain. I'm weary beyond all sense. Please, continue with your study. I won't disturb you further."

Kase did not look wholly convinced and Garett assumed the captain was far too used to unwelcome interruptions, but the man merely nodded and gave a polilte, "Yes, sir," before dropping his eyes back to his 'pad.

Garett settled himself back against he crate, wriggling until he'd found a semi-confortable position from which to watch and study Kase. Not with his eyes, for staring would have been rude, but through the Force.

Looking with his Force-sight, Kase was transformed from a dry and prim trooper to a perfectly round piece of silvery-white crystal. Though he came across as stiff, Garett sensed no hard or cutting edges to the man. He was blunt, but not purposefully hurtful and as solid and straightforward as only a piece of rock could be. Cool, smooth and utterly unshakable and in this moment, perfectly content and somehow..._reassured _of the world around him.

Garett breathed in the man's calm, watching the silver-white light of the Kase's presence settle comfortably into his shape as he absorbed the words of the manual; words he already knew by heart, but whose steady repetitiveness gave him comfort in a time that was unsettled and chaotic.

Slowly, Garett's own hectic thoughts quieted down and he finally dropped off to sleep, lulled by the stolid bulwark of Captain Kase.


End file.
